


Break Me, Why Don't You

by Dreamer_88



Category: Shefani, The Voice (US) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-09-24 23:04:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17109839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamer_88/pseuds/Dreamer_88
Summary: What happens after Gwen rejects Blake after hearing his verse in Go Ahead And Break My Heart? Will they be able to find their way back to each other or did she ruin them forever?





	1. Is It Way Too Hard?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a new story I’m really excited about. It will switch between Blake and Gwen’s perspective each chapter. This story starts during the battles of the Voice season 9, so that makes it around august, 2015. It’s reality with a twist of AU and the characters in this story will deviate from their true personalities sometimes. Just a little warning

His eyes swivel towards the back of his head in a distressed sense of a headache, almost too far gone to realize he’s having one. He rubs his temple with his right hand, trying to focus on keeping the pain inward, while waves of nausea hit him one after the other.

He should’ve accepted her invitation last night, instead of choosing trouble, but apparently, his divorce also robbed him from the ability to make decent decisions. He can’t quite remember all the places he’s been to last night—nor can he say with certainty that nothing has happened while he was there.

He’d stumbled home somewhere around four in the morning, not even making it to his bed as he let the ground be his refugee for the remaining hours. At some point, he must’ve tried to reach for the couch, but all that did was turn him into an even bigger puddle of sweat and embarrassment, eventually deciding against it and slumping back down the cold floor of his empty rental; the thought of being there enough to make him want to grab yet another bottle, despite the raging hangover that’s coursing through his body.

It’s been a while since he’s been this fucked up.

He probably had no right to ask anything from her, let alone text her at this early hour. But aware of his current state, he’s lucky a ‘you’re so sweet’ text was _all_ that he sent her.

He stumbles back towards the edge of the couch, where two hands reach out to steady him.

“Easy there.”

Her voice is soft and gentle, which is the best thing she could do for him right now. He’s stuck between the limbo of feeling happy she’s here or feeling like the biggest failure for letting her see him like this.

“You don’t have to be here, y’know.” He stumbles out, the words hurting his throat as he forces them out. “I’m not your responsibility.”

She doesn’t say anything, just makes space for him to fall into the cushions and holds him. He can’t remember the last time someone held him like this; with no motive or other intention than to calm him down—like she’d be okay with sitting here with him like this forever if it meant he’d feel better.

The walls of his huge rental are slowly becoming blurry as the smell of alcohol on his clothes and flying up into his nostrils overwhelm him. His mouth is sore from the amount of liquor he poured down his throat earlier and he wants to stand up and relieve Gwen from the alcohol pouring out of his veins, but he knows he wouldn’t get very far.

“You really shouldn’t do this anymore.”

Her voice is small and free of any judgement, only worry. He has to squint his eyes closed tightly against the sound of it.

“I’m sorry.' He mumbles. He’s not sure to whom or what he’s apologizing, but it felt like the right thing to say in the moment.

“You’re not forcing me to be here, Blake. You don’t have to be sorry.”

He figures she thinks he’s apologizing to her and maybe he is, it sure is the most obvious and without a doubt the least painful choice. He already feels like the world’s biggest loser as it is, he doesn’t want to have to explain to her how he’s sorry to himself for allowing this woman to break his spirit for so long, or how he’s sorry to every person who believed in him cause he’s in the process of letting them all down.

No, it’s easier to apologize to Gwen for having to see him this down and pathetic—and he is.

“How did you know something was wrong?”

His words are slurred and he flinches at the sound of it, partially because he only sounds like that, whenever things have gotten really bad and partially because the softly spoken words were still too loud for his pounding headache.

She smiles softly as she brushes some of his hair out of his face, being careful not to bring him any more discomfort than he’s already feeling. “You managed to have more spelling errors than _me_ in only a three-word text. I figured if I was wrong about this, it’d make for a good story later.”

“I shouldn’t have texted you.”

Her hand smooths down the side of his arm as she presses her head against his shoulder. They’ve sat like that before, but something about this moment makes it feel different, more intimate.

“Not that I mind, but, why _did_ you?”

It’s a fair question, but he has no real answer for it—at least not one he understands.

“You’re the only one I can stand to be around lately.” Is all he says. He realizes it’s not the sweetest or most romantic thing he could’ve said, but he also knows they’ve both been deprived from the truth for many, many years and he will never be the one to add to that.

He can feel his heart thump wildly, partially because of the alcohol but also because she’s sitting so close, he can smell her soapy scent of her hair everywhere. He wonders if she’s nervous, cause if she is, he can’t tell. She seems so comfortable sitting here with him like this, her hand softly rubbing his arm, it almost shocks him. Gwen is an affectionate person; he knows that from the little time they’ve spent together already—he just didn’t expect that habit to be one she’d offer up so freely to someone like him.

When her hand slips away from his arm, there’s an emptiness in his chest he didn’t foresee. He swallows as she readjusts on the couch, her hand suddenly coming back to his shoulder as she pushes gently.

“You can lean on me a little, if you want.” She adds that next part when she doesn’t get a reaction from him right away and he tries to recover quickly—his intoxicated state making that ten times harder to do.

He moves to lean on her as gently as he can, but his drunken frame falls into her much too heavily, a soft gasp escaping her beautiful lips.

“Fuck, sorry.” He mutters in utter regret.

“No, don’t worry about it.” She deadpans, her hand pushing him back against her as she keeps it there until she’s convinced he won’t pull back.

If it weren’t for his fucked-up life, he would consider this moment beautiful. He has the Gwen Stefani holding him, sitting here in the early hours of the morning, completely ignoring the fact he smells like booze and probably comes across as the most pathetic man on the planet—after her ex-husband, ofcourse.

While her hand still gently rubs his arm, he’s taken back to the many times he’d wished Miranda would just do this for him; just hold him or let him hold her, be with him and not ask for anything in return. It’s the simple things he feels like he’s missed out on the most. Gwen is dangerous in her own right; she makes him feel like it’s okay for him to want these things, to expect them even. He can’t allow her to let him think like that; that fairytale of love failing him twice already, reminding him he’s better off just giving that up.

“Do you want to go to bed?” She whispers.

His head is trying desperately to decipher her words, not knowing whether she’s asking to guide him there or because she suddenly can’t wait to get out.

“Uhm, I…”

“Hey, you don’t have to. I just wanted to help you get comfortable.”

Christ, she’s just trying to help him and he’s still managing to be a self-deprecating wuss. She’s offering him a hand when no one else does, wanting him to be comfortable more than she wants company—which could be the only reason she’s here right now.

“Just a moment more please.” He slurs, his voice getting dangerously close to being inaudible.

The truth is that her presence confuses him. As much as he wants her here, he can’t deal with the many thoughts and emotions she brings out of him. There’s just a sinking feeling there that he knows will consume him from the minute she leaves, therefore he needs just another few moments to bask in her sweetness, finding the courage to be left alone again.

“’Is gonna hurt like a bitch when you leave, ya know?”

He doesn’t know what the hell he’s saying, the words escaping his mouth without any filter—he would’ve been mortified at his honesty if he weren’t drunk out of his mind.

“I’m here now.” She counters.

“Thank you.” He slurs, and he means it. He only hopes she realizes how much.

She squeezes his arm tightly. “I’m sorry.”

An apology is the last thing he expects or wants to hear from her. “Why are you apologizing?”

“A person like you should never feel this alone.” She says sweetly, her head tilting up slightly so she can look him in the eyes. “You’re not alone.”

He wishes he could say that having Gwen around is enough for him, like knowing she has his back makes the deceit from his ex-wife sting any less, but it doesn’t. Instead of risking hurting her feelings, he just squeezes her back in response.

“I know.”

*

It’s been a while since he’s seen her. She’d left for Montana a week after that dreadful night. They’ve been texting back and forth almost every day since though; which makes it more obvious she’s suddenly holding back a bit. He doesn’t blame her after seeing him drunk out of his mind, leaning on her while she’s the one who had to give her kids over to her ex the night before. Still, somewhere he’d hoped that maybe she wouldn’t regret it—at least not this soon.

Stepping foot on the Voice set is like walking with bricks tied to his ankles. The place that usually brings him peace and familiarity, is now the place where he has to face _her_.

Thankfully it ends up not being too bad; she greets him with her signature smile and Adam and Pharrell make it their mission to help him feel good. It’s natural and easy being with them, the show itself even helping a bit. Gwen still goofs around with him during and in between takes, her warmth radiating towards everyone on the show, but for some reason he likes to internalize it and claim it as his own—something she does for him.

When the day of filming is over, he’s not in any rush to get back to his rental, the knowledge of that alone is enough to create the urge to drive to the closest liquor store and have himself a repeat of last week. He decides against it, most reasons unknown but one of them probably getting ready to get back to her kids.

He’s in conversation with some of the crew members before he feels a presence come up behind him, his lips curling up slightly as he realizes whose presence it is.

“Am I interrupting?” She asks sweetly as he takes her in; her hair is pulled up into a messy bun and her sparkly silver dress is replaced by a pair of tight skinny jeans and a black tank top.

He wants to keep looking at her forever.

Instead, he forces his gaze back to the crew people in front of him as he shakes their hands to say his goodbyes. “Have a great night, guys.”

When he looks back at Gwen, she’s toying nervously with her fingers as she bites her lip. “I didn’t mean to pull you away from them.”

He laughs softly. “You didn’t. It was time for me to go home anyways.”

Her face falls as she processes his words.

“Oh.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” He says a bit puzzled, not remembering human interaction to be this hard. “I just wanted to make sure you knew you didn’t come in between anything.”

She stares at him for a few beats, shaking her head as she purposefully ignores the look of disappointment on his face when she redirects the conversation. “You should probably go home and get some rest. It’s been a crazy long day, I just wanted to say goodbye.”

Blake isn’t about to be put off that easily. “Why don’t you stay for a bit? We could hang out in my trailer for a while, talk…”

She seems unsure about her answer, confusing him furthermore; she was the one to walk up to him for crying out loud.

It suddenly dawns on him. “Wait, do you gotta get back to your kids?”

Flush crawls over her cheeks. “No, they’re still with Gavin. He has them for two weeks this time—it’s a long story.”

“So what do you say? Wanna hang out for a little while?”

He senses her defences weakening right on the spot, a small smile gracing her pretty face. “Just for a little while.”

*

 

“Thank you for this.” She says cheerfully, clinking her bottle of beer with his for a polite toast. To what, he doesn’t really know.

It doesn’t matter either; not when she’s still smiling that gorgeous smile that he’s gotten to see for most of the day during the shooting of the battle rounds. He doesn’t know how she does it, but she’s able to find some light inside of her no matter how dark her reality. There’s a smile she reserves just for when she’s alone with him though, which makes it that much harder to focus on anything else. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think it held an unspoken dream, curved around honesty and love—and him.

She clears her throat and does what she can to swallow the findings she can see in his eyes.

“How have you been holding up?” She asks instead.

Blake frowns at her question, the countless of texts exchanged between them should’ve given her the answer to that already.

“Better.” He lies. “You?”

She huffs, the little exhale of air leaving her lips causing them to part just slightly. His eyes follow the entire motion until her red lips curve back into a closed smile. “Not better.”

A wave of silence passes as he realizes she’s not about to lie to him, despite him doing so only a few beats ago. There must’ve been a flicker of panic in his irises, because Gwen smiles softly before placing her hand on his bicep.

“You don’t have to talk to me, you know? It’s okay.”

He doesn’t scramble some words together to try and make it sound prettier, he doesn’t even try to diminish her comment at all, instead he lets his eyes close against the pretty sound of her voice and the honesty it just spoke to him. It’s an incredibly rare feeling to feel like you’re being seen and simultaneously accepted.

“You wanna talk about what’s been going on with you?”

The words come out gently and patient and Gwen doesn’t seem to need much more coaxing. “It’s just been a horrible couple of weeks.” She admits.

“Without the kids?” He asks carefully.

“That too.” She breathes. “That’s the worst part about all of this. The part that physically hurts, almost too much to talk about.”

He nods. “We don’t have to.”

She pauses and sighs. “Why is it that you’re the only one who gets me?”

He smiles a bit painfully, his eyes darkening. He knows it’s a question she knows the answer to, so he doesn’t bother with a reply. He just stretches out his arm behind her and waits for the inevitable moment she scoots closer.

Her eyes glister, hazy with despair as she lays her head on his shoulder. He tentatively cups her shoulder in his palm, unsure if the thoughts racing through his mind are in any way like the ones she might have. When she looks up at him from where she’s leaning on his shoulder and catches the heat in her eyes, he knows they are.

Before his mind can tell him to put an end to this before it begins, she’s moving away from his side and swings her leg over his lap, resting both knees besides his thighs. With her straddling him like this and her hot breath slowly hitting his face, he’s currently short wiring.

“Gwen, what…”

The weight of her on top of him fit so comfortably against his, he couldn’t help but smooth his hand down her back, tracing her spine through her t-shirt.

“You’re the only person who can make me feel good.” She murmurs, her head leaning down so she can nuzzle his cheek. “I want to feel good.”

He knows what she’s doing, knows what this is, and he shouldn’t entertain it for even a second. He knows it will hurt them eventually—using each other for a temporary fix is neither one of their MO’s. Somehow his brain doesn’t connect with his actions and before he knows it, he’s actively kissing the breath straight out of her lungs.

Despite the urgency, he takes his time figuring out what she likes, which well-placed nibble makes her moan into his mouth. Her small hands cup the side of his face as her flowery smell starts flooding his senses. He wants her. That want only spikes more out of control when she starts rocking her hips slowly. He goes quiet and nips at the tender skin behind her ear in response, revelling in the shudder he causes and the way her fingers clench at his shoulders.

“I usually don’t do this type of thing.” She breathes against the side of his face, her nails digging into his clothed shoulder.

“We don’t have to start now.” He says, nibbling at her earlobe. “Tell me to stop.”

He can’t deny he’s been attracted to her since forever; he might’ve been a married man but he wasn’t blind. Getting close to her and realizing she was the only person who he felt like talking to, her becoming his ally in the most confusing time of his life has sparked a certain care and attraction for her that he wasn’t prepared for. He’s gone as far as thinking how her lips would feel onto his, or how his name would sound as it falls off her lips in pleasure—but never did he think he’d ever get there, let alone like this.

“I can’t tell you that.” She moans as he rocks his hips up at one of her downward thrusts. “I don’t want you to stop.”

No matter how badly he wants this to happen, he can’t fuck her like this. He grabs her hips in both hands, holding her still as he thrusts up again, her head falling forward against his.

“I can’t….not like this.” He whispers against her parted lips. “I know another way to make you feel good.”

He knows what she wants, but he can also see by the look in her eyes that she understands why he can’t give her that. He can only hope the alternative will be enough for her.

He leans up so he can catch her lips between his, inviting his tongue to dance with hers. He sucks her bottom lip into his mouth, tasting the cheap beer on her tongue as he uses his hand to forcefully establish a rhythm on his lap. His erection is at full mast as she grinds up against it slow but steady.

“Blake, _please_.”

He can tell by the lack of breath in her voice that she’s close and he quickens the pace, but not by much. He grits his teeth to keep from losing control too quickly as his hands slip down her body, over her breasts and past her hip. His palm settles there for a moment before choosing his moment to perfection as he once again meets her thrust as she fights against the hold of his hands.

“Fuck, just like that.” She whispers as he allows her a bit more control, his hand on her hip loosening its grip just a little bit.

“Are you close, baby?” He asks, his own self-control hanging on by a thread.

Luckily for him, she seems ready to lose it as a high pitched moan escapes from her throat, her head falling back at a particularly deep grind. Imagining the way her inner muscles must tighten and spasm, he can’t hold himself back any longer either. She manages to embrace him as she collapses on top of him, white hot spasms still washing through her as she fidgets a bit on his lap, her thighs clenching together in attempt to still these stirrings between her legs.

She doesn’t pull away right away and that somehow surprises him. Maybe it’s his own confusion about the situation that allows him to think so negatively. When his fingers tighten on her waist and she offers no resistance at all, he revels in the heat her body emanates even through layers of clothing. The way she’s looking at him all flushed and bashful sends flames up his spine, cause _god_ , he wants her.

He sighs and closes his eyes, his hands still holding on to her and he can feel her eyes on him, waiting for him to say something.

Only, he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know what the hell just happened.

“Blake.”

He knows he’s screwed. The soft moans she’d let out as he kissed her and the way she’d grinded her hips into his lap will be all he thinks about, enough to fuel his fantasies from now on. He wants her now more than ever, and not just for one night. He also knows that’s probably not what this is; not what she wants or needs. He doesn’t need to hear her say it out loud.

“I know.” He forces out, a bitter taste on his tongue.

“I should probably go.” She whispers and if he didn’t know better, he’d say he could see tears pooling in her irises.

She forces herself out of his lap, smoothing down the ripples of her jeans as she avoids eye contact. She’s still breathing loudly, he’s not even sure he’s breathing at all, but it’s with a quick goodbye and a frantic attempt of hers to open his trailer door that she disappears out of view. He keeps sitting there until he can hear her car take off from the parking lot and only then does he let out the deepest breath.

The remains of his bruised and battered heart were still bleeding in his hands as he touched Gwen and both had turned a blind eye to it. He knows he needs to stay away from her now but he also knows he won’t. If anyone is going to give him that final push into the abyss, he has no problem with it being Gwen.


	2. If Moving On Is What You Want To Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays everybody!

She has no right to expect anything from him, but the way he looked at her afterwards made it painfully obvious that he had regretted what happened. She’d been thinking about how it would be to be _that_ close to him for a while, but she is nowhere near ready to give his friendship up—something that she now has ruined.  
   
Ever since they started taping the blind auditions for season nine, they’ve been closer than they’ve been before. He opened up about the state of his marriage immediately and she’s never felt such a sadness and admiration for a person. He was so strong in the way he let them all in on such a dark chapter in his life, not running from it but instead showing his vulnerability in front of all his colleagues. She knows he didn’t have much of a choice, this line of work not leaving you with the most privacy, but she still couldn’t do it.  
   
She had made it her personal mission to check up on him as much as she could, focusing on putting a smile on his face during these long days of filming, making sure he had some nice memories to take back to his now empty home.

She knows what that’s like.  
   
And throughout all the darkness, they managed to find a light in each other. They’d text a bunch of flirtatious stuff back and forth, hang out a little longer on set, they even got as far as exchanging pictures—decent ones, but still. Spending some time away from him had only made her realize how much she actually craved his presence and spending some time on a ranch in Montana made her realize how much she hoped Blake would introduce her to his’ one day. It’s like the moment she made up her mind about her feelings for him, he’d pulled back.  
   
It had been weird and slightly confusing, but by the time the battle rounds had ended she felt a different type of connection to him; almost like…. well, she wouldn’t go there just yet. But now there might be nothing to go to anymore, since he’d completely vanished after what happened in his trailer two weeks ago.

The way he fell quiet after he’d kissed the life out of her and tried to stutter through an explanation reminded her too much of the rejection she’d been exposed to during the duration of her marriage.  
   
Thank God Gavin didn’t have the kids this week and she could at least be around her three favorite humans in the world. They seemed oblivious to her inner turmoil, which is the way it should be. Running after them 24/7 keeps her occupied with something else besides her failed marriage and now ruined relationship with Blake.  
   
She doesn’t know what she’d label them as, or what they’ve been doing these last few weeks, but they’ve gotten to lean on each other in a way she’s never experienced before. His presence in her life was so well-timed and important, it must be more than a coincidence. She has a hard time believing faith would do her so dirty.  
   
She has no idea what to expect when she comes in for the taping of the Knockouts today, but she’s equally nervous as excited to find out. She hasn’t seen Blake since their make out in his trailer and he hadn’t texted her either; it was about time for him to face her.  
   
“Gwen!” Adam exclaims excitedly as his arm lands confidently around her shoulders. “Are you actually _not_ the last person to join us this time?”  
   
She looks up at Adam to find a playful expression on his face, but her own expression is one of worry—it is indeed not normal for her to be here before the rest of the coaches, considering her glam routine, but it’s even more strange to be here before _him_.  
   
“Where’s Blake?” She tries to ask as casually as possible.  
   
“See, it literally throws everyone off when he’s late.” Pharrell jokes, causing Adam to chuckle.  
   
She wants desperately to laugh with them, not make this a big deal in her mind, but she can’t help but wonder if he’s purposely avoiding her.  
   
When he does finally join them, it’s almost like nothing has happened between them. He’s back to his bubbly self and keeps a smile on everyone’s face. She’s even more taken aback to notice he’s blatantly flirtatious with her. It drives her absolutely crazy not to be able to talk to him in private, wanting to find out what’s going on in his head and if it’s anywhere near as crazy as her inner world is.  
   
“You look great.” He says honestly, in front of everyone and she has the audacity to blush. She ignores the looks from Adam and Pharrell and instead focuses on Blake. He’s getting thinner every time she sees him and even though she can’t deny his handsomeness, there’s a tiredness and hint of carelessness that settles deeply into his features.

“You’re not too bad yourself, cowboy.”  
   
It’s official, she’s losing her chill with him in front of her colleagues and she can’t help herself. Blake doesn’t seem to care much for her little slip up, instead smiles that smirk that’s been haunting her for days now, wanting nothing more but to kiss it off him.  
   
Taping the Voice doesn’t go much better. He keeps his flirtatious comments up and she keeps getting flustered by it. She never even realized how much she giggles when she has a crush, maybe she’s never felt like this before. Whatever it is, he takes notice of it and does whatever he can to keep extracting the same reaction from her.  
   
By the end of the day, she feels beyond wired; she needs to see him now. She can’t go a second longer without getting him alone.  
   
“I’ll see you tomorrow, G.”  
   
She looks up to find Pharrell approach and she smiles widely. She thinks about having a long talk with him soon, just to get her mind right, gain some new perspective or something. It’s been a while since he’s been able to grace her with some wisdom.  
   
“Yeah.” She says before hugging him. She lingers a little bit longer than she usually would and her long-time friend takes notice.  
   
“You okay, Gwen?”  
   
Her own filing for divorce had only just became public and she knows Pharrell has been meaning to talk to her about it, but never pushes her to do anything.  
   
“Just tired.” She replies honestly; it’s not the full truth but it’s not a lie either. Right now, it’s what she’ll have to settle for.  
   
“Go home, get some rest.” He advices her sweetly.  
   
“I will.” She replies. “Just going to say goodbye to Blake real quick.”  
   
Pharrell smiles apologetically. “I think you just missed him. I saw him leave right after filming ended.”  
   
She tries to keep it together in front of him, but his words are almost enough to cause a wave of tears. She swallows the emotion down and somehow manages at a small smile.  
   
“I’ll just see him tomorrow then.” She forces out, hugging him one last time before getting in her car.  
   
Instead of driving home, she drives to his rental.  
   
*  
   
Going after the man who has managed to ignite something in her that burns far brighter than anything she’s ever known from her past relationships doesn’t seem like her brightest idea, the prospect of what _could_ happen terrifying. The fear of falling, hanging over a precipice is daunting, almost paralyzing.  
   
Yet, her knuckles still rap against his door three times as her heart lurches in her chest.  
   
The door swings open and she feels her insides clench, grip around her heart as it tightens at the sight of him changed into a different set of pants and a white t-shirt that shows off his weird farmer’s tan that she’s gotten to find super endearing.  
   
“Gwen.” The sharpness of her name falling from his lips pulls her out of thought. It’s not nearly as soft as he usually utters her name, but it reminds her why she’s here to begin with.  
   
“I was thinking that maybe we could talk?” She asks shyly. It’s not like her to feel so nervous around him—if anything, he makes her feel the most comfortable.  
   
He nods and steps aside, pushing the door open wide so she can step inside. She’d secretly hoped he’d be excited to see her on his doorstep, but it appears to be the complete opposite; having her show up appears to be just an extra weight on his shoulders.  
   
She rakes a hand through her hair when she hears the door shut behind her, thinking about what to say that could possibly help salvage this fragile thing they have going on between them.  
   
“Am I interrupting anything?”  
   
“That depends.” He answers, taking a few steps into her direction but keeping a safe distance nonetheless.

He’s deliberately keeping space between them, that much is clear and the observation has her swallowing hard.  
   
“I don’t understand.” She whispers. “Today…you were…. you seemed happy to see me.”  
   
“We gotta act like our usual selves, right? It would look suspicious if we suddenly started ignoring each other.”  
   
He says it so casually she feels it all the way in her throat. Despite his words, his demeanour shows he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself either. He pushes the sleeves of his shirt slightly up his forearms and the simple action has her breath catching. Images of those same arms holding her as he’d let her come on top of him flood her mind. He kissed her back then, he’d wanted her, she could see it in his eyes. How all that seemed to had changed in the span of a week was mindboggling to her.  
   
He speaks again before she can find the words to reply.  
   
“Gwen, what are you doing here?”  
   
She takes a step into his direction, not caring when he looks at her almost in warning. “I wanted to see you Blake. Alone.”  
   
“Why?” He asks and she suddenly finds herself getting annoyed.  
   
“Why?” She repeats. “How about because one day you let me get _that_ close to you and the next day you just completely disappear; you don’t call, don’t text, don’t even stick around long enough after taping to say goodbye to me.”  
   
“What do you want from me right now?” He hisses, his eyes darkening. “You bolted the second you got off. You couldn’t even muster up the respect to tell me you regretted what had happened. You just left.”  
   
Her eyes widen before they start watering, her throat suddenly painfully dry. He completely misinterpreted why she’d left. She knew they were both entirely too broken to start something like this, but she decided to be careless that night and go ahead anyways. Now she ruined the only good thing she had left.  
   
“You’re wrong.” She whispers.  
   
He shakes his head, removing his gaze away from hers.  
   
“Blake, you’re wrong.” She repeats louder this time, grabbing his hand. “I didn’t regret it—I’m just, I’m just confused.”  
   
“You don’t think I’m confused about all of this. Fuck Gwen, I don’t know what the hell is going on right now.”  
   
She can tell some of his anger is deflating, but he’s still not his usual self with her. She wants that Blake to come back to her desperately.  
   
“You looked at me like you wanted to be anywhere else than with me in that moment. What was I supposed to think, Blake?”  
   
Her admission seems to startle him, his breath stuttering.  
   
“I was trying to do the right thing.” He says with a shake of his head. “I didn’t know if you wanted to talk about it, or if you needed some space. But then you left, without a word basically…”  
   
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left. I should’ve asked you how you felt about it, but I was embarrassed. I mean, _god_ Blake, I’m not the type of girl to just….do that.”  
   
“I know that, Gwen.” He breathes. “That’s why I wanted to give you some time.”

“I thought you regretted what happened.” She whispers.

She suddenly feels too vulnerable, like she spilled something she shouldn’t have and now all she can do is wait for the inevitable rejection to follow.  
   
Instead of moving away from her as she expected, or him telling her to leave, he closes the remaining distance and swallows her up in one of his signature hugs, his arms coming around her back.  
   
“Please don’t be so nervous around me.” He holds her so close, she fights the urge to completely melt into him. “I didn’t regret it. I could never regret something like that with you.”  
   
She sighs into his chest at his words, feeling some of the tension leaving her.

“I don’t want to ruin whatever this is.” She whispers.  
   
He shakes his head, his grip on her tightening. “Me neither.”  
   
“People are gonna think this is crazy.” She whispers next, her head still buried in his chest. “Like, _I_ think this is crazy—I don’t know what this is.”  
   
“Do we have to label it as anything?” Blake asks nervously, the thought of having to name what they’re doing here apparently a bad one. “Can’t we just…. lean on each other?”  
   
“Like a rebound?”  
   
“No, like two people who genuinely care about each other but can’t just dive straight into this.”

Her eyebrow rises. “If the circumstances were different, would you have wanted to?”  
   
“Gwen, don’t ask me these questions.”  
   
“Do you have feelings for me?”  
   
She feels nauseous after the words escape her, the concern that rises on Blake’s features does nothing to ease her mind either. It’s not a fair question to ask him, especially since she’s not sure about what she’s feeling either, but she showed up here at his doorstep, basically making the first move. She needs something from him now too.  
   
“Gwen, I don’t know— _yes_ , but…. I don’t know what this is. Don’t ask me to define it.” His eyes plead with her not to judge his inability to be articulate about this. “Please.”  
   
It was a fragile yes, but she heard it loud and clear. There’s no doubt that they’re both broken and messed up—nothing good can from this.  
   
“I like you.” She admits shakily, hating the way her voice sounds. “My divorce isn’t even finalized yet, my kids are still getting used to suddenly having two addresses and I…. I’m a broken mess that shouldn’t allow you to get involved with me but I can’t stay away, Blake. If you want to run as far away as possible, you should do that. Cause... I can’t.”  
   
He just looks at her then, all confused and flustered.  
   
“We’ll end up hurting each other.”

She knows he’s probably right. Getting involved with Blake is dangerous and reckless, and no matter how great he is, no matter how great she is, the chances of this working out are more than slim.  
   
Yet.

“I like you. Do with that what you will.”  
   
She backs away from him then, turning on her heel as she heads for the door, being stopped with a gentle hand on her arm.  
   
“Hey.” He calls out for her softly, but intensely. “You can’t just say that to me and leave. Stop leaving.”  
   
She looks back at him sheepishly, her heart pounding in her chest; she knows that whatever happens now, will have the power to change their relationship dynamic forever.  
   
“These past few weeks…” He starts softly. “I haven’t been able to think about anyone else but you. Do you know how fucking crazy that is, Gwen?”  
   
Her breath hitches, cause despite it being how she feels 100%, she didn’t expect to hear the words coming out of his mouth.  
   
“What started out as checking in on each other has somehow evolved into this….and I don’t know Gwen—I feel like I should let you get far, far away from me.”  
   
She shakes her head, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t want to.”  
   
“I’m gonna hate myself if I hurt you.”  
   
She swallows roughly, her eyes watering.

“Does it have to be that complicated?”  
   
She watches his eyes almost pop out of his sockets and she starts fidgeting on her feet, trying to think of a way to talk herself out of this one.  
   
“I mean, we like each other. We’re both going through the hardest time of our lives; why is it so wrong to try and feel good together. Like you said, we won’t label it—we’ll just….be.”  
   
He steps closer to her, his hand falling onto her hip as he roughly pulls her closer, her breath catching.

“Do you feel that?” He asks, his accent getting thicker all of the sudden.  
   
“Feel _what_?” She breathes, her mouth close to his face.  
   
“The way your breath hitches when I get close to you…” He answers, his voice dropping an octave as he addresses her. “The way your knees get weak when I touch you.” She suddenly becomes painfully aware of his hands on her hips and has to close her eyes against the truths spilling from his lips. “None of this will _not_ be complicated, Gwen. It can’t be easy cause this is not casual for either one of us.”  
   
“I don’t want casual, I want— “  
   
“Me.” He finishes in a whisper.  
   
With his hands on her hips and his breath on her face, she’s becoming putty in his hands and she just _wants_ him. She’ll care about the aftermath of things later; they can work out any sort of confusion then, but right now she needs him to consume her— both her mind _and_ body.   
   
“Please.”


	3. Why Don’t You Do It, Baby?

He can’t help himself any longer. His lips crash against hers hard, the force of his kiss backing her up the remaining inches against the wall, her mouth reacting instantly. He doesn’t remember ever being met with such mutual need and desperation, but the way she opens her mouth for him and grabs at his head to keep him close has him throwing all caution to the wind.

He still can’t quite believe she’s here. That Gwen Stefani showed up at his doorstep, needing him just as much as he needs her.

The thought only makes him hotter, the heat consuming every inch of his body as he has her pressed up against his wall. His hand moves up to her cheek, while the other one slides behind her ear to tangle in the long strands of her hair. She lets out a small whimper against his mouth when he angles her to get better access.

“Gwen, baby…” He murmurs in between kisses, her hand on the back of his head preventing him from going too far. “Fuck, I need to hear what you want.”

“You.” She says, wasting no time. “I want you, Blake.”

He looks at her for a few more seconds, waiting for her to get her bearings back and quite possibly her common sense, but the moment never comes. Maybe they’re both too far gone already. He hoists her up and her legs hook around his lower back instantly. She keeps nibbling at his earlobe as he ushers them upstairs and his mouth falls open at one particularly deliberate kiss at his neck.

The walk to his bedroom feels like hours while he holds her close, trying to withstand her teasing touches. His brain is going a million miles per minute, unsure how to go from here, not wanting to scare her off but also not feeling in control about his feelings anymore either.

She seems to pick up on his hesitance and smiles wickedly, closing the gap between their bodies as they’re now standing chest to chest in his bedroom.

“Do you want me?” She whispers, her hands sliding down his chest agonizingly slow.

Her nails are gonna be the death of him, of that he’s sure.

“Fuck, yes.”

“Cause I really want you.” Her hand reaches underneath his shirt until she has enough space to slide her fingers across his bare skin. His abdominal muscles spasm at the brush of her tender fingers there, the gentle scrape of her nails making him lightheaded.

Whatever blood had remained in his brain rushes south when she lets her hand splay at his chest, her thumbs stroking his nipples so gently he’s going to absolutely lose his mind. He’s convinced then; he _needs_ to show her how amazing he knows they can be.

He walks them back slowly before pushing her onto the bed anything but gentle. He gets rid of his dishevelled shirt, courtesy of Gwen’s restless hands from earlier and hovers above her for a few minutes, enjoying the way her chest rises and falls so rapidly. He lets his hands fall to her hips, pulling her body into his until he knows for certain she can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing up against her sensitive core.

“ _Blake_.” She sighs breathlessly, the way her hips buck up to ensure contact has him smiling widely.

He groans before biting down at the soft skin below her ear, not caring that he’ll probably leave a mark. Her chest is heaving with every sharp gulp of air she manages to pull into her lungs and god, he wants to change that. He wants her breathless.

He gets rid of her jeans next, the tiny black lingerie clinging onto her hips is quickly disregarded too. She looks a little bashful, so revealed and open for his taking, and he revels in the pure beauty that she radiates at all times.

“How is this my life?” He asks sweetly, putting a soft kiss on her lips, letting her taste his lips and find confidence in his closeness.

She bucks her hips again. “Please.”

There’s a lot he never saw coming—befriending Gwen, having her interested in him, but Gwen begging for him to pleasure her has to be the last thing he ever expected to experience.

“Fuck baby, I need to taste you.”

Her sharp intake of breath is music to his ears. He slides down her body, making sure to keep touching her lightly everywhere as he goes. He moves her thighs apart, smirking slightly as he realizes she can’t help but wanting to clench them back together right away.

He doesn’t waste any time with formalities, instead he gives her what she wants. She moans out loudly when he circles her clit with his tongue, starting a slow pattern. He strokes along her folds, teasing her and then delving back in to suck at her sensitive nerves. She’s vocal, and going off her own reaction, that’s not something she’s used to being. Knowing that he manages to get her so uninhibited spurs him on even more as he doubles his efforts to see her spiral out of control.

“Blake, baby, oh my god…”

He knows she’s close by the way her fingers clench painfully tight in his hair and her knees start to grow weak. His arms hook around her legs, helping her keep some composure as his name starts falling off her lips compulsory.

He runs the flat of his tongue against her clit and finally, she breaks apart on a final, blissful cry. Her hips buck up into his face and he doesn’t deviate from his piercing rhythm until she comes a second time.

Her breathing remains ragged and broken for at least ten minutes, as he spends the time softly kissing up her body, smoothing down some of the goosebumps he encounters. He waits until she’s fully opened her eyes so she can give him that final permission.

She does so with a simple nod and another kiss on his lips. He’s going to make love to her and nothing else matters in the world.

*

He lies on his side, staring into the darkness of his bedroom as he doesn’t dare to move; scared he’ll somehow scare her away. He can’t quite grasp that this is real; this isn’t one of his fantasies—Gwen is actually laying in bed with him, fully naked, fully pressed against him. The way her fingertips tentatively skate across his ribcage and settle on his waist serves as the final confirmation.

Her perfectly manicured nails leave a bunch of goosebumps on his skin as she skims against them softly, but he doesn’t want it to stop. He sighs dramatically when it suddenly does.

“Sorry.” She mumbles, her cheek pressed into the pillow as she faces him.

Not ready to end the dreamlike moment, he pulls her slender body deeper into his side, shaking his head despite it not being visible in the dark. “Why are you apologizing?”

“My nails were hurting you.”

He chuckles, his hand grabbing hers from where she put it safely in front of her on the mattress and pulls it back to his chest, laying it directly over his heart.

“They weren’t, sweetheart.”

“You got the chills when I did that.” She says softly.

“Not because you were hurting me.”

He didn’t have to say more for her to understand him and he finds the moment safe to tuck her even closer, revelling in the sweet whimper coming from her as he does so. Silence pulsates between them then, her fingers now curling over his collarbone.

“Was it what you expected?” She asks suddenly, her voice shaky. “The sex, I mean.”

Her body feels tense all the sudden, a stark contrast from her comfortable self just a few minutes ago. His eyebrows raise almost passed his hairline, not sure what could possibly make her ask such an obvious question.

 _Insecurity_.

He has a bunch of that himself, so he recognizes the shake in her voice and has no problem identifying it for what it is. His arms come protectively around her small frame as his mouth presses against her ear in the dark.

“You blow my mind, Gwen. In every sense of the word.” He nudges her until she releases the breath she’d been holding. “You could’ve been the most inexperienced person in the world and it still would’ve been the best sex of my life. And for the record, you know _exactly_ what you’re doing when it comes to _that_ department.”

She wiggles her hips a little, fitting herself more firmly against him and he smiles when he realizes she’s getting comfortable again, the tension subsiding from her bones. Her icy toes poke his calves as she slides her feet down to feel the warmth of his limbs around her.

“Jesus baby, are you cold?”

She giggles. “Sorry cowboy.”

“Come here.” He says as he takes a hold of the covers and brings them up, making sure every part of her body is completely covered in blanket. He rubs his hands down her arms and her whole body seems to just melt, relaxing against him as if a heavy weight has been lifted from her. “Better?”

“Perfect.” She whispers.

He tries desperately to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss a single moment of Gwen laying here in his bed, so soft against him. Her breathing evens out though, her warmth and the now familiar lure of her scent, the steady rise and fall of her chest all lulling him into a sense of comfort.

Her hand comes up to his cheek then, before slightly bumping into his nose until she seems confident to have found his still open eyes.

“Sleep, Blake.”

“You just poked me in the eye.”

He feels the soft shake of her body as she laughs inaudibly, her hand trying again at finding his eyes, this time softer as she lays her hand over them so they’re covered.

“Sleep.”

 

*

The last day of filming the knockouts was usually a time he’d anticipate; he loves the show, but these few months off between knockouts and the live shows are usually his time to go back to Oklahoma, escape the suffocation that the city life brings him.

Things were a little different now, having Gwen in his life and all.

Some might say they’re not great at playing it cool, their heart eyes and flirty comments having some people turn their heads already, but damnit, if he doesn’t care.

He knows that when it comes down to it, they do have to be discreet. Gwen has kids to think about and let’s face it, her divorce isn’t even finalized yet. Things have been going well for them though; the last day of filming before their short break and the press day they had together with all the coaches was mostly spent by them checking each other out and him pulling them aside every chance he got for a quick make-out.

It almost reminded him of his teenage years, sneaking around, being maybe too passionate for his own good. Gwen shared the same enthusiasm and passion in return.

He’s suddenly nervous when he finds himself waiting for her to come over for dinner. She’s been in his rental numerous times now and they’ve found themselves tangled up in his sheets every single time, yet one thing he hadn’t done for her up until tonight was cook for her. He doesn’t want the relationship to just be physical; he wants to spend some time on her heart now instead of her body. Besides, he needs to talk to her too.

She arrives at his place with a minimal amount of make-up on, maybe the least he’s ever seen on her and she looks absolutely breathtaking. Her hair is down and she’s wearing tight jeans with an almost see-through lace thingy and it has him almost throwing out his dinner plans so he can take her upstairs. Almost.

“ _Gwen_ …” He breathes, letting her in. “You look…. wow.”

The little laugh that escapes her lips sounds confident, knowing, but the way she lowers her head and blushes betrays her.

He can’t wait another second to feel her against him so he closes the distance and wraps her up in a hug. The moment they separate enough to look up at each other, his lips are on hers. She kisses the same way she acts around him; cute, but deliberate. It’s like she’s discovering every little thing that makes him react and he has no problem with being her little study project.

“I missed you.” She whispers against his lips, barely having retracted from him at all.

He kisses her again, before reluctantly pulling away from her. “I missed you too.”

“How crazy are we?” She laughs as she lets him lead them to the dinner table. “It’s been two days since we finished filming.”

He shrugs. “I always miss you when you’re not here.”

There’s a moment of internal freak out when he notices what he just admitted to her, but her teary smile reminds him of who he’s talking to; he’s actually allowed to be vulnerable now.

He tried his best at making this as romantic as possible, knowing her long enough to know she’s a sucker for that stuff—plus, she hasn’t gotten nearly enough of that during the course of her marriage—she deserves nothing less.

The table was already set; candles were lit and there was soft music to accompany them in the background. It took her a while to notice it was the playlist she’d made for him after the first night she stayed over.

“Blake, this amazing.” She nearly cries as he presents her the food, his smile nearly hurting his cheeks but he doesn’t care.

“I had to show out a little….” He teases, but he’s one-hundredth percent serious. “…To impress you.”

She shakes her head. “You’re already impressive enough.”

“You haven’t even tasted my food yet.”

He’s not good at being the subject of her compliments, simply for the fact that it’s her who’s giving them. She’s too good for him, every fibre of his being seems confident about that. He just dreads the moment she finds that out too.

She smiles. “You know what I meant.”

She takes a small bite of the vegetarian pasta he made for them, her eyes sparkling as she looks up from her plate with an almost childlike expression. “OK, now I know for a fact you aren’t real. Like Blake, how are you literally good at _everything_?”

He can’t help the grin from spreading wider across his face because this happiness feels uncontainable; it burst through him like the rise and crash of a fountain effervescent with joy. He glances at her again because he just can’t stop looking at her—her hair falls lazily over her shoulders and there’s a soft smile splayed across her lips that she might not even be aware of herself. She’s so gorgeous and his heart swells at the sight of it.

“I’m glad you like it darlin’.”

She corrects him and tells him she _loves_ it and he can do nothing but laugh. It’s that easy when he’s around her and he’s damn sure it’s not supposed to be _this_ easy for someone to make him feel like this, especially when he’s also still feeling weighed down by the pain and fear installed in him by his ex-wife.

Her hand reaches out for his as she starts rubbing her nails over his knuckles. He’s learning that she likes to include her nails in a number of things...

“Since the kids will already be asleep, I can stay the night here, you know? I just have to get back early so I can be there before they wake up again in the morning.”

He hadn’t been brave enough to ask, not wanting to intrude on her family time, especially since that fucker took the kids from her fifty percent of the time. But her softly spoken suggestion makes for a wave of warmth to course through his body.

“You know you’re always welcome here, Gwen.” He tries to say with the least amount of desperation he can muster. “I’m just glad you can stay the night.”

She smiles wickedly. “I’ve kind of been waiting to spend the night again.”

He sips his drink, cocking his head. “Oh yeah?”

She gets bashful again. He saw it coming.

“Yeah.”

“Why?” He pushes further, smiling as she looks up at him from beneath her lashes.

“You keep me warm.”

“You do get cold very fast.” He agrees.

The rest of dinner goes like that; she tells him about how each day that passes she realizes a little bit more how her previous relationship was never meant to last and he confesses that he’s finally at the point where he can tell the story to outsiders and not feel like the biggest fool. She smiles at him friendly and at some point proceeds to tell him that he could never be a fool for believing in love. It’s such a Gwen thing to say and he loves it—he starts to think that he might actually be falling in love with Gwen. For now, he ignores it, just enjoys what they are right now.

They migrated to the couch at some point. She’s almost in his lap and he’s not used to someone initiating physical contact the way Gwen does. Her hand lands on his cheek as she plays with the short stubble there.

“I had the weirdest day today and you literally made it all better just by being here.” She admits softly, seemingly so deep in thought he wonders if she’s aware she said anything at all.

He strokes some of her blonde locks out of her face. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

She shakes her head and scrunches her nose, but he’s all too familiar with that look. It’s that look that she gives when she wants to talk about something but is afraid to bother him.

“You can talk to me, Gwen.”

She bites her lip and exhales dramatically, pointing her finger in mock-warning, pretending he’s in trouble for making this _too_ easy for her. He knows it’s supposed to suffice as a lot of things but he just thinks it adorable. She’s adorable. He thinks she’s a lot of other things too—beautiful, smart, badass, unbearably sexy, and it all fuels his desire for her.

“It’s just weird how people are invested in your life when you’re in the public eye, you know?”

Unfortunately, he _does_ know. He’s grateful for his career and even more grateful that he can do it for a living, but since everything had gone down in his life, he’d found himself wishing more often than not, that all the craziness would just disappear.

“You can’t even read the tabloids, Gwen. You just gotta shut that out.”

“It’s not just that, though.” She says through gritted teeth. “Like, yesterday Kingston came home from school and literally told me I’d turned my flirting up a notch.”

It’s moments like these where he’s sure the universe must have it out for him; he gave him this beautiful thing to hold on to just for it to evaporate right in front of his eyes.

His jaw locks. “God damnit.”

“I know.” She sighs. “I’ve never even heard him say these words before. It was so weird and then like, how do you tackle something like that? I ofcourse told him I didn’t and that he needs to know he’s going to hear a bunch of things about his parents and all he needs to believe is what he already knows; that we love him.”

Blake nods, still waiting for the inevitable blow. “That sounds like you handled it perfectly.”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs, breaking eye contact as she looks at her hands in her lap. “I just feel like I’m failing them all the time. Like somehow this is all my fault.”

These last words are enough to snap him out of his own pity party, reaching out for her hands as he gets her attention back.

“Gwen, if there’s anyone not to blame here, it’s you.”

“You have to say that.” She whispers, a stray tear falling down her cheeks.

She closes her eyes which causes a few more to fall and his chest constricts; he hates seeing her cry despite having seen it a bunch of times before.

“I don’t lie to you. I think you’ve had enough of that, don’t you think?”

She swallows roughly, answering his question with a soft nod.

He leans down enough so he can place a soft kiss to her temple, watching as her eyes flicker open again, dark pools staring at him so open and honest.

“You’re amazing, Gwen.”

She shifts in his arms, her knees pressing into the couch cushions as she faces him. “But let’s not talk about the sad stuff anymore. I’m here now, with you and that’s what I want to focus on.”

The drop of the hammer never comes and she must realize he was waiting for something worse to follow her rant, because she leans in and pecks him quickly on the lips. It’s still weird they can just do that now.

“I do want to talk about something else though.” Blake shifts a bit uncomfortably.

She picks up on his mood and gets a worried look on her face. “Blake, oh my god, did I just completely ruin the mood?”

He looks up at her and shakes his head frantically, grabbing a hold of her arms again as he forces her closer to him again. “No, _hell_ _no_ , you did no such thing.”

He can feel her visibly relax against him and he’s proud of his ability to starve her fears so quickly.

“I want to talk to you about this trip I’m taking next week.”

She looks up at him surprised, a small smile on her lips. “You’re going back to Oklahoma?”

“Nah, sweetheart. Mexico.”

“Mexico? Really?”

He smiles softly. “Yeah, a few friends of mine wanted to make sure I wasn’t still drinking myself into oblivion, I guess. I really couldn’t say no.”

“No, you shouldn’t have said no.” She says genuinely. “This will be good for you. You can escape the madness for a little bit.”

He looks at her, making sure she knows he means what he’s about to say.

“I don’t want to escape _you_ though, Gwen. I don’t want you to feel like I’m running from you or need space from you or— “

“—Blake, hey…” She cuts him off. “Don’t worry about it, babe. I want you to go, have fun with some of your friends.”

He pulls away slightly and she looks up at him, her eyes dark and shiny, an eyebrow curved up in question. He smiles against the radiant picture she’s making and shakes his head before leaning down and capturing her lips in a soft kiss—like he just couldn’t help himself.

“Did you have anything else you wanted to talk about?” She whispers against his lips, a twinkle in her eyes immediately making him curious.

“No, why?”

“Cause I really want your mouth to get busy with something else.”

He lets her lead them both to his bedroom, the route a familiar one to her now, and all he can think about is how someone like _him_ can’t possibly get _this_ lucky.


	4. We Can't Still Be Friends

She hates that she didn’t get to drive him to the airport to say goodbye to him, but she also knows he’s right about what he’d told her. Both of their crumbling marriages are the main subject of every tabloid in the country right now, their lives both under scrutiny—there’s no way they could be seen together outside of work without it blowing up. It’s these times that she desperately wishes not to be in the public eye, missing the right to privacy and anonymity.

Spending a week without Blake feels incomplete now; him being so imbedded into her life in such a short period of time will never seize to amaze her. It also doesn’t help that he sent her that beautiful voice recording a few hours before he’d boarded his plane and due to bad cell phone service won’t receive her reply. A part of her wishes he would’ve sent her the song while he was still in LA, but there’s something a little bit more calming about the thought that she won’t have to face him for a while after listening to what she knows is a song about his feelings for her.

It’s like the world knew he’d left her, because it’s been gloomy and rainy all day—her interest in leaving the house at all was at a minimal, but her kids came up with the great idea to go to the park with Todd and his children and she knows what happens when they don’t get their energy out. Besides, she’s a mom first; staying in won’t do them any good and that’s enough reason to help her get moving and get dressed.

Her brother seems to immediately recognize something’s a little off when he’s face to face with her.

“You’re okay, sis?”

She nods. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

The lie falls of her lips way too easily and she can’t help but cringe at the realization she’s had to pretend to be OK and fall apart behind closed doors for most of her marriage—faking a smile not nearly as hard as it should be.

“I don’t know.” Todd shrugs. “You just seem a little off.”

She wants to tell him the truth; how she can’t stop thinking about her co-worker who went from a friend to something so significant in her life. She wants to tell him how not getting to spend time with him makes her feel a little empty and how she’s been feeling even more lonely these last four days he’s been spending in Mexico. Her brother would think she’s crazy though.

“I guess I’m just tired. I don’t sleep well and the kids are…I don’t know, maybe they’re acting out because of everything that’s changing in their lives?”

She decides to go with parts of the truth, none of the words she just spoke false, it’s just not the entirety of the truth. Todd seems pleased with her answer though and looks at her sympathetically.

“You know if you need any help with them or just need some time to rest, all you have to do is call, right?”

She’s thankful the kids are running around somewhere in front of them, oblivious to the adults walking behind them as her eyes start tearing up.

“Thank you.” She whispers, squeezing his arm. “I love you.”

“I love you too. And I mean it, Gwen—if you need us to take them for a little while…”

She shakes her head sweetly, a tear falling down her cheek now. “I already have to share them fifty percent of the time. I can’t….” She shakes her head, her voice breaking. “I still feel like dying everytime they stay with him, you know?”

Todd nods in understanding, his lips a thin line on his face and she can see the hatred for her ex-husband pooling in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything else and she realizes that’s probably for the best, not trusting whatever is gonna come out of his mouth if he allows himself to speak any thoughts about Gavin out loud.

It’s the next day during breakfast that Todd and Jen come over that the kids end up leaving with them anyways. Todd and Jen taking the kids for the night wasn’t something she was necessarily thrilled about, but the kids love spending time there and the last thing she wants to be is selfish—especially not when it comes to them. She’s thankful her children seem to adjust to the new living arrangements rather smoothly, with the occasional reluctance, but for the most part she’s lucky in that regard. She’s not sure how she’d be able to do it if going back and forth between their parent’s houses would result in much more heartbreaking scenarios.

When she allows herself a few selfish thoughts, she wishes her kids had missed her as much as she’d missed them and didn’t jump at the opportunity to have a sleepover with their niece and nephew, but she pushes that thought aside quickly as she tries to makes herself busy in her empty mansion.

It’s not before long that her mind wanders back to the rumours she’d accidently come across today. She knew it bothered her more than she let on to herself in the moment, but she also knows how she feels about Blake and what they have together; if anything, she knows it’s real. Still, reading about the mischief that was apparently going on in Mexico makes her head spin. She moves on autopilot while her brain stumbles through her emotions, attempting to make sense of everything.

She comes to realize that she knows more about Blake than she initially thought. She knows about snippets of his childhood; the loss of his brother and sometimes heavy loneliness. She knows about how his public perception of him sometimes bothers him more than he lets on and she knows that he’s fiercely protective of those he loves.

But still, she wants to know more. She wants to know exactly why he despises writing so much when he’s so obviously great at it. She wants to know what caused his first marriage to fail, despite cringing at the thought of bringing it up. She wants to know if any of the wild one-night stand stories he’d supposedly had right after him and Miranda split were rooted in any sort of truth. Sometimes it feels like he knows all her strengths and weaknesses and she’s not on an even playing field when it comes to him. She wants to know the same things. Most importantly, she doesn’t want their fragile relationship to fall apart for the same reason she heard his first marriage apparently had.

As all these thoughts were flashing through her mind, insecurities were steadily manifesting itself inside her chest, making every intake of breath on the overwhelming side of painful. This is not how she expected these few days apart to go, but she can’t help but to doubt herself—and _him_.

She’d told him to take the trip for God’s sake and he’d told her he wouldn’t mind cancelling so he could spend more time with her. Somewhere this is her fault. Even if nothing’s going on in Mexico, these doubts are able to plant itself in her mind because she let him go. Their relationship was just starting to take shape and somehow she thought it was a good idea to immediately spent some time apart. She’s only ever been in relationships where she was considered the ‘needy’ one and she was determined to do it differently this time—but maybe she’d been _too_ careless. Maybe she wasn’t clear enough about what she thought they were doing here.

She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until a few tears fall onto her phone, not even realizing she’d sat down at her kitchen table while smoothing her thumb over the recording he’d sent her. She’d been nervous about opening it at first, scared she was going to find out she didn’t like it and what would happen then? But what actually ended up happening might be ten times scarier, because she loves it—his voice, the simplicity, the chords, his _lyrics._

He’s an incredible writer, even though he likes to tell her otherwise

She spends hours repeating the recording, ignoring how her tears increase with every listen. She wants to tell him immediately how great it is, how great _he_ is, but he wouldn’t get her text anyways—besides, now it’s her confused mind that won’t allow her to do so.

She lets his voice and words sink in, slumping over the kitchen table as she won’t let her phone catch a break, her thumb hitting the replay button over and over again. She’s suddenly a lot more grateful for her brother having the kids over, because her loud sobs quickly drown out the sound coming from her phone, her body shaking with the force of it.

It’s more than frustrating to always find herself at this end of the spectrum; freaking out and wondering if the one she likes is doing dirt while she’s not around. Even though Blake has never done anything to personally break her trust, she can’t seem to give him the benefit of the doubt right now; not in her broken state.

During her breakdowns and constant replay of his recording, she’s missed the multiple texts that had come through from Blake, saying he’s finally able to check his phone and wants to call her. She doesn’t notice until her phone lights up with his callers ID; she wonders if the moment he picks to call her has anything to do what’s going on there in Mexico.

Her voice is still rough and tear-stained when she picks up.

“Hello there, gorgeous.” His Southern drawl is thick as ever and she almost cries at the sound of it; why the hell does she miss him so much?

“Hi.” She murmurs quietly, her voice scratchy and rough and Blake picks up on it immediately.

“Gwen, are you okay?” He speaks the words filled with worry.

“I…. _No._ ” She states more angrily than she intended, sounding incredibly harsh to her own ears.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

The pet name seems to just slip out, but it suddenly fuels her anger. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows her own fears and insecurities are about to ruin a good thing, but she can’t help herself.

“This was a mistake, Blake. We should never have started any of this.”

The sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line breaks her heart even more, but she knows now is the time to stand her ground—not back down like she’d done numerous times during her marriage.

“Where’s this coming from?” He asks dumbfounded, his voice a mixture between hurt and anger, the disappointment palpable from every syllable.

“I’m not the girl for something casual, Blake. I don’t give up these parts of myself to the next person; I’ve never been and I won’t start now.”

“I know…...I’m not— “

“—I’m damaged, Blake and so are you. We both deserve time to heal first and maybe our ways to getting there are different, I just know I can’t do this with you, Blake. I can’t.”

She can't see him physically, but she can picture the way his face falls; the eyes she's gotten so used to getting lost in now getting a shade darker. He takes his time with answering and she wants to beg him to say something, but at the same time can't imagine anything more painful. 

“Is that why you were so set on me going on this trip? So you wouldn’t have to look me in the eyes when you gave me the boot?”

His question leaves her with even more tears and she shakes her head forcefully, almost in disbelief he could think of her like that— _that_ cowardly.

“Don’t spin this on me.” She hisses, her grip on the phone tightening. “I’m in the middle of a cheating scandal as it is—do you expect me to just let you make me look like a fool next?”

“What the hell are you talking about, Gwen?”

He sounds genuinely confused and she only cries harder at that. “I’m sorry, Blake. It’s just better like this.”

There’s a silence that follows that unsettles her deeply, but she doesn’t have the heart or strength to break it.

He chuckles then. “I should’ve known, huh?”

 _“Blake_ …”

“I don’t even think you know the reason why you’re ending this right now, but I think you knew all along that you would.”

“That’s not true.” She almost squeaks. “You _know_ that’s not true.”

“I don’t know anything, Gwen.” He throws back at her angrily. “All I know is that you’re giving up on us.”

There’s so much she wants to say to him, so much she wishes she could explain, but if he’s right about one thing, it’s that none of it would make sense to either one. She wants him, but she also doesn’t want to rob him of the chance to be free, to live it up, to not be tied down. Even if nothing happened while being away—which she feels more sure about with each passing second—she can’t help but feel like maybe there  _should_.

“I’m trying to do the right thing.” She whispers, fear holding steady in her voice, feeling it all the way in her throat. “For the both of us.”

“Then don’t push me away. Let me in.”

“I can’t, Blake.” She breathes. “I can’t and I need you to understand.”

She hears him chuckle bitterly and the sound pierces through her heart like a dagger, tears still falling freely as she breaks not only his heart.

“Whatever makes you happy, Gwen.”

The line disconnects two seconds later, and as much as she can’t blame his anger towards her, she can’t shake the hurt either. She tried letting him in, tried to convince herself this wouldn’t crash and burn, but this time away from him gave her way too much time to think—time to come to her senses.

Doing what she felt was right didn’t come with any sort of relief though; heartbreak courses through her veins and her chest constricts painfully tight, each breath feeling razor sharp. She feels as broken as she feels empty and for the second time that night, she lets herself fall apart.

 

*

She knew immediately when she heard the doorbell ring, that she’d find him at the other side of the door; she knew it was cowardly of her to do it the way she did, cold and cruel even. At the same time, he knows how little she has to give right now and to expect anything more from her is just poor judgement on his part. She prepared herself for the day he’d come back home, knowing that phone call wouldn’t be the last of them. She opens the door to reveal Blake’s worn down looking frame, his eyes hurt and hollow.

“Are you gonna let me in?” He asks sharply, as she watches him flinch at his own roughness.

“Yeah.” She nods before stepping aside to let him in.

She watches as he makes a straight line for her living room and she inhales deeply. This is the moment she’s been dreading, but it’s also something that has to be done; rather sooner than later, as she already wasted enough time.

She awkwardly follows him, wringing her hands in front of her. “Blake….”

“What happened, Gwen?”

He’s apparently out of patience as well, not willing to wait around for anymore clarity and she doesn’t blame him.

“I can’t do this, Blake. We never should’ve started this.”

He sighs heavily, his eyes boring into hers. His movements are sluggish as he lowers himself onto her couch—he looks drained and exhausted and she stifles a cry at the realization that this time, she’s to blame for that.

“You told me to go.” He whispers softly, his eyes now diverting from hers. “You told me it would be a good idea to take this trip, get out of here...”

“I didn’t know what would happen on that trip, now _did_ I?”

His eyes snap up at hers angrily, his face betraying the level of hurt he’s experiencing. “You know damn well nothing happened, Gwen. I don’t get it; we’ve talked about the tabloids, about the fake stuff we read every single day—why did you suddenly start to believe them?”

Her breathing sounds shallow to her own ears, tears pooling in her eyes as she decides to not sugar coat anything.

“I’ve spent my whole life turning a blind eye to warning signs, Blake…”

“ _Don’t_.” Blake hisses suddenly, eyes dark and glistering. “Don’t compare me to them. I’m nothing like them.”

She shakes her head, tears silently falling down her cheeks now. “I don’t know what you’re expecting me to do right now. You’re gone for a few days and suddenly a bunch of stories about your wild experiences down in Mexico erupt and you’re asking me to just ignore it.”

“Because you know me!” He snarls in disbelief. “I’ve been honest with you from the start, we’ve talked about our pasts before. You’re making me out to be someone I’m not.”

“But how do I know?” She asks softly, sniffing loudly. “How can I be sure, Blake? I’m so broken and I don’t even know what the next few months of my life are gonna look like. I can’t risk getting hurt like that again—I can’t do that to myself _or_ my kids.”

Blake shakes his head once more, his own eyes fighting back tears too. He seems to be contemplating on saying something and looks at her when he finally decides to spill.

“Was it the song?”

She frowns at his question, eyes widening as the meaning of it hits.

“Blake, no—the song…it was…amazing.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Gwen. If you’re gonna walk away from us, at least make sure you don’t lie to me.”

He leans back against her couch, fixated on her with a penetrating stare, daring her to say anything but the pure truth.

“It wasn’t the song, Blake.” She repeats a bit softer this time, her eyes casting down to the floor. Her heart is pounding for so many reasons; not wanting to hurt Blake is one, but the irony of Blake demanding the truth from her, also seems a little out of place—aggravating. “You’re asking me to look passed your past, your reputation, these latest rumours, everything….and right now, I just don’t think I can.”

“Gwen, you’re talking about stories you’ve heard about me from in my twenties; you can’t possibly be— “

“—Let me ask you something.” She interjects, noticing the way he gets annoyed at her interruption. “Please?”

“Okay.” He answers hesitantly.

She takes a deep breath before asking the question that’s been haunting her the most lately.

“Why did you and your first wife split up? The real reason.”

His entire demeanour changes, eyes flashing as he stiffens in front of her. “What? Gwen…. why…. what does that have to do with anything?”

She knows he’s aware of why she’s asking, so she ignores his sudden deflection.

“I want to know.”

Blake sighs heavily, his right leg switching it out for his left before turning to look at her again; a look of disappointment lingering in his eyes.

“We were too young to ever be married in the first place.” He starts lowly. “I’ve told you that before, so I’ll skip over that.” He continues, letting her know he’s partially repeating himself and maybe even a hint of anger. “I was an asshole—I wasn’t ready to get married and did a hell of a lot to try and sabotage things.”

“Did you cheat?” She asks suddenly, the story going to slow for her liking.

He shrugs. “I might as well have.”

“That’s not an answer, Blake.”

“It _is_ an answer though.” He spats angrily. “It’s exactly on the money too. I might as well have cheated on her, cause it would’ve hurt her just as much as what actually _did_ happen. And now, I might as well have cheated on her, cause it’s not gonna make a difference for you, is it? Your mind is already made up.”

She lets his words sink in, feeling unsteady on her feet. Instead of answering his statement disguised as a question, she brings it back to his story.

“So you didn’t….” She mutters.

He chuckles lowly, a knowing and frustrated sound.

“No, I didn’t.”

Before she has the chance to say anything in return, he’s up on his feet and approaches her. The look in his eyes is one of anguish and she can’t stand to look at it any longer.

“Tell me if any of this made a difference just now, Gwen.”

He’s standing so close and she fights the urge to ask him to hold her, forget any of this ever happened, but she can’t. Instead, she keeps her head down and muffles another cry into the palm of her hands.

“Look at me and tell me, Gwen.” Blake says lowly, his voice more demanding than she’s ever heard it before.

She finally looks up to meet his eyes, but still struggles with finding any words.

“You sounded confident over the phone three nights ago, so don’t tell me you suddenly forgot how to speak.”

She gasps, shaking her head angrily. “You’re being a jerk right now, Blake.”

“Tell me. Tell me you’re walking away from us, from me. If you’re gonna do it, I deserve to hear the words face to face, don’t you think?”

She closes her eyes shut again, ignoring Blake when he once again asks her to look at him.

“I’m sorry.”

“The words, Gwen.”

She opens her eyes again, her cries a steady sound now but her eyes tell him the truth before she even dares to speak. She shudders out another breath, before nodding her head softly.

“I can’t do this, Blake—I’m…. I’m sorry.”

He just nods, biting his lower lip as he walks away from her and she can’t help but call out for him, making him momentarily halt his movements towards the door. He looks at her one more time and she pleads with her eyes to see the apology pooling in them, despite knowing it won’t smooth anything over or change the reality of their situation.

He ignores her plea completely and part of her doesn’t blame him at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry...


	5. Maybe Someday We Can Try Again

He should’ve left when everyone else had, but he didn’t. He probably should’ve locked himself away the minute filming ended, but he didn’t. After all, he felt like he deserved a drink, especially on someone else’s tab. He doesn’t know the girl, doesn’t feel like he needs to. She’d obviously recognized him, but she played it cool for the most part, minus the flirtatious looks he got from her every couple of seconds.

He’s not surprised to find that she actually calls it quits after a few hours, realizing that tonight is not going anywhere for her. Don’t get him wrong, she wasn’t bad company, but the moment he goes home with a girl _that_ young, he’ll dig himself into a hole he could never come out of. So, she’d left, like almost everyone else.

He hadn’t meant to stay out here, drinking by himself, but oh well, it happened. And then his thoughts started going down dangerous paths, because most people who started the night drinking with him, all had to go home to sleep next to someone they cared about—and damn, it might be the most sensitive thing in the world, but it settles onto his skin like a bruise.

Gwen had looked at him with so much sympathy in her eyes during the live rounds, he almost wanted to go over there and tell her off; tell her she had no right to look at him that way after pushing him to the side the way she had. There were a few times where he wondered if she would approach him, the look in her eye telling him she wanted to, but something refrained her from doing so—maybe it was the look in _his_ eyes.

He gets a horrible idea then, and instead of pushing it down, he knocks back his glass in front of him and before he knows it, has his hand in his pocket and unlocks his phone. With every beat that passes, he convinces himself that this isn’t a bad idea at all, it might be the answer to his problems, getting off his chest what he’s been meaning to tell her all along.

He scrolls through his contacts quickly, having to do a double take due to the alcohol and his nerves. He focuses on the screen intensely and waits to see it dialling before putting it up to his ear.

She picks up on the second ring.

“Blake?”

His alcohol fuelled state makes him forget about modern things like call display, feeling a bit confused as to how she knew he was calling. He swallows loudly, waiting a moment for his vocal cords to start working the way they’re supposed to.

“Uhm, yeah. Hey.”

“Is everything alright?” She sounds incredibly worried and for a moment he rethinks his plan; maybe she doesn’t deserve this. He thinks it over and flinches.

“I just wanted to talk.”

“Are you drunk?” She asks, and he’s not sure if it’s his voice or the music in the background that gives away his whereabouts. She sounds sad while asking what she already knows and it hits him like a punch to the stomach.

He can’t stand to hear the disappointment in her voice, so he does what he promised her he wouldn’t do, not to her—he lies.

“I’m not drunk.”

“Blake...”

“I miss you.” He murmurs lowly, unsure if the background music managed to drown out his voice, so he says it again. “I miss you. All the fucking time.”

She’s quiet for a while and he gets the sense that she’s about to hang up. He’s instantly back to being annoyed with her and lets out a sound that he’s not entirely sure should have ever been able to come out of his body.

“You need to get a glass of water and go home.” She instructs sadly. “You’re going to have a killer hangover in the morning and you have the Voice tomorrow night.”

He’s going to have to see her again, for hours, just like tonight. He clenches his fist and fights the urge to order another drink.

Before he can say anything else, he hears sheets rustling on the other end of the line.

“Where are you? I’m picking you up and driving you home.”

He tells her the name of the bar before shaking his head, almost shocked at himself for letting that slip; he never would have if he weren’t drunk out of his mind.

“Hey no, what the hell are you doing? You can’t come pick me up, I don’t want it. I mean it, Gwen.”

“Just stay put.”

He’s about to lose his cool with her, but she hangs up before he can say anything more. The moment the line disconnects, he lets his phone collide with the wooden counter and pulls out his wallet—he needs to get a hold of himself and close his tab.

He thinks about his options. He doesn’t want to see her, but mostly he doesn’t want her to see him like this. Not when she’s the sole reason he’s this messed up to begin with. He knows he can’t drive, and calling an Uber will be useless; Gwen will be here first.

When he looks over to his left, he sees what might be his escape out of tonight, into a much bigger mess in the morning. He hadn’t taken notice of her before, he’s not even sure if she got in here just now, but the way she looks at him tells him that this could work; she’s not as young as the first one either. He finds himself approaching her before he can tell himself to do the right thing.

The girl looks at him excitedly, but it’s hard for him to read her otherwise.

“I’m Blake.”

He holds his hand out for her to shake, but she just shakes her head and smiles, before finally taking his hand gently. “I know who you are.”

“You’re gonna tell me your name?” He asks, trying hard to not slur his words, be as charming as he can be despite his fucked up mental state and alcohol-fused mind.

She bites her lip mischievously. “Does it matter?”

He thinks he might’ve found a slight shimmer of luck by running into this girl. She knows who he is and doesn’t want anything beyond what they both know will happen. Casual and dirty. Two things he absolutely despised when it came to Gwen; he wanted the opposite with her, but these are the two things he needs from this girl who’ll remain nameless to him.

“Fuck no.” He mutters, before moving in close, sealing the deal before he lets her take him home.

*

He’s not quite sure what time he stumbled back into his own rental, but what he does know, is that he has way too little time to prepare before heading out to Universal Studios. His head is still pounding, but at least his thoughts are his own again and the light doesn’t bother his eyes as much anymore. The place he’s in right now feels awfully similar to the one he was in before he’d met Gwen, only now he must deal with still seeing the woman who broke his heart into a million ugly pieces.

He’s always hated this place; it’s too modern, too cold—he’d bought it to have a place closer to work where he and his ex-wife could spend some time together, figuring they’d warm the place up as they’d go but nothing had worked out the way he’d imagined. Memories of Gwen spending time here are the only ones who make this place a little less dull, but not any less unbearable.

He wants to go back to Oklahoma, but back there he’s supposed to have it together. His family would worry like crazy if they saw him like this. At least LA would make him feel like there was place for his sins.

He’s grateful to have good team this season, because he can’t be the coach he prides himself for being for these kids lately. He’ll always try his best at uplifting them, giving them the input only an experienced artist can provide, but for the most part, they’re depended on themselves. Maybe that’s not the worst thing; that’s how the real world works. Besides, the live shows are where the coaches influence becomes considerably less anyways.

He retrieves one more Advil from the bathroom cabinet, popping it in his mouth before he mentally prepares himself to head out. His phone starts vibrating from where he’s left it on the couch and he doesn’t have to look to know who’s contacting him. She’s been calling and texting ever since he stood her up last night, letting her leave her house in the middle of the night to come get him only to find no one there when she arrived. He feels like a giant asshole—he can’t deny it’s one of the shittiest things he’s done in a while, but he spent the whole night trying to justify his actions since he’d told her not to bother.

He looks at his phone with a heavy heart, almost wishing for a string of curses and profanities from her, but he’s met with what he knows is genuine worry.

He scowls at the messages and missed calls, not having the strength to pick up or answer her. He doesn’t want her to see him this weak, this vulnerable. He forces his eyes away from his now silent phone and shakes his head in disgust; nothing is how it’s supposed to be. His gaze flickers over to the half-empty bottle of scotch on his kitchen counter, knowing he’ll get well acquainted with the vintage looking bottle when he gets back home tonight.

It’s with a great sense of regret and resistance that he manages to drag himself out of the house and towards work— _god damn_ , he’d started to actually feel like he was going to work, the passion quietly slipping out of everything he was doing.

His desire to go home wasn’t lessened when Adam approached him way too loudly for his still hungover state. He’s been through enough of these to know how to function properly, but he still closes his eyes at the loud voice coming at him.

“Man, where the hell have you been?”

Blake raises an eyebrow, staring down at his phone to eye the time.

“Whatcha talking about? I’m perfectly on time.”

Adam shakes his head, dismissively. “Not now, dumbass. Yesterday.”

It takes him a while to put the pieces together and then he scoffs. “Did she text you?”

“She wanted to know if I’d picked you up.” Adam says seriously, the look of worry starting to piss Blake off. He wanted people to stop worrying and just leave him be. “Dude, are you alright? You kinda look like shit.”

“Fuck outta here, Adam.” He makes a move to walk past his best friend, but he should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

“What happened between you and Gwen?” Adam asks straightforwardly, causing Blake’s jaw to clench immediately. “I thought you two were getting close.”

It’s been a while since anyone had been able to fuel the level of emotion within him the way Gwen had; he thinks she might’ve been the first to do it like that. He’d only been intimate with her for a few weeks, their support for each other had only lasted for a few months, but losing her is turning his life upside down. It sounds pathetic, it probably is pathetic and he won’t tell his friend any of it.

“Nothing happened.” He lies. “She has her own life, I have mine.”

“Is that why she planned on picking your drunk ass up from a bar at 2.30 am?”

“She was worried about me.” Blake deadpans, not wanting this conversation to last any longer then it needed to. “And I told her the same thing I’m telling you now—I’m fine.”

Adam huffs. “Sure you are. Where were you last night?”

“Who are you, my damn mom?”

“Blake.”

“I had a date.”

The lie slips out of his mouth so easily, he almost pukes. He prays to God Adam doesn’t end up asking a bunch of questions about it because he didn’t even remember the girls name. He also knows that his friend undoubtedly will ask the shirt of his body.

“A date?” Adam damn near yells, causing Blake to look up at him rather panicked.

“Jesus, Adam. Keep your voice down.”

“With who? At a bar?” Adam connects the dots quietly to himself, before looking up at Blake again. “A date, _my ass._ You’re just hooking up with randoms now?”

Adam’s tone of voice frustrates him more than anything. He’s well aware of it being the total opposite of what he’s into, but to Adam that type of behaviour is no stranger; if anyone has no right to judge, it’s his friend right here.

“I know you’re happily married now and those days are behind you, but please, _please_ don’t pretend to be above casual sex now. Don’t patronize me with that bullshit, Adam.”

His friend seems genuinely shocked, taking a step back as he eyes him.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Blake. It’s just— “

“—It’s just what?” Blake asks angrily.

“It’s just not you.”

“Being me just doesn’t seem to work for me, does it?”

The cue to enter the stage follows and both men look up a bit surprised, not realizing how long they’ve been talking. Adam gives him one last desperate look and he knows he’s nowhere near done grilling Blake, but at least now it would have to wait.

*

She’s upset, that’s more than clear to him. All through the night she tries to uphold her façade, being her bubbly self and declaring her love and enthusiasm for every contestant that graces the stage. But underneath the layer of professionalism, he can see her waver. She doesn’t smile as much when the cameras are not on her and she hasn’t looked his way once since they sat down.

When one of her own team members sings a particularly emotional song, the cracks in her demeanour become more prominent and she addresses it accordingly, but only he knows there’s more to the story.

“You just totally transported me to another universe with your voice.” She declares hoarsely, her eyes shiny. “The way you control your voice even when you’re channelling all these emotions is mindblowing. That means you’re born with a God given gift.”

The crowd roars and the girl says her humble thanks, but Blake is stuck on the way she’s purposefully avoiding his gaze at all costs, despite having to feel his burning on her cheek.

When it’s his time to talk, he’s suddenly desperate to have her at least acknowledge him.

“I think we’re all a little jealous of Gwen for having you on her team.” He mentions her name immediately, but there’s not much of a reaction from her other than a faint smile directed to the girl on the stage. The crowd laughs, Adam and Pharrell both vocally agree with him, but neither one are the reactions he was hoping for; but at least he made for a good TV moment. “We all know you’re an incredible singer and you didn’t disappoint tonight. Great job, sis.”

He ends it quickly after that, unable to stop the bitter taste from coating his mouth and throat.

By the time the first commercial break is announced, Gwen all but shoots out of her chair and he feels like he can finally breathe again. That is until Pharrell unintentionally shakes up his freshly obtained peace when he calls back for Gwen to join them, keeping her at his chair.

He swallows roughly at the sight of her so uncomfortable to be in the same space as him, but he doesn’t blame her. Just because he’s selfish and still secretly searching for her acknowledgment of him, he decides to take his chances and gets up to approach both his colleagues, who were once both his friends.

He addresses her immediately, again. “She was awesome, Gwen. You could have the winner right there.”

She looks at him long enough to not be considered rude, but looks back down as soon as she feels it’s safe to do so in front of Pharrell.

“Thank you.”

It’s all he gets, but he’s thankful to have heard her voice directed at him even if it were just two words. Luckily Pharrell has enough to say and the conversation doesn’t completely die. It takes him only a second to realize she’d walked off and left the two of them to converse without her.

The rest of the night goes by agonizingly slow, and by the time they’re all done, he doesn’t’ think there’s enough left of him to drink tonight. He just wants to go home and crash.

As he approaches his trailer to get the last of his things, he realizes that might have to wait a little longer.

Gwen’s back in her usual attire again, and as long as it takes her to get all dolled-up, it takes her surprisingly little time to dress down. She’s leaning against the side of his trailer, her arms folded across her chest as she looks everywhere but at him. It’s a weird paradox considering she’s the one who’s waiting on him. He didn’t ask her to come by and wait for him here.

He can see her visibly swallow and the more he looks at her, the more annoyed she becomes. He’s not quite sure where to go from here, but she rushes past him and opens the trailer door, not even bothering to wait for her invitation.

He sighs loudly at the inevitable and follows her suite.

“Gwen...”

“ _Don’t_.” She hisses, pointing a finger at him. “What’s wrong with you?”

Everything, he wants to say. Everything since he’d let her in and she’d let herself out. Everything since he was willing to pour himself into her completely, only for her to reject it weeks later. Everything since she’d saved him from his own boredom, loneliness and charm, until she decided it wasn’t worth her time anymore.

“Nothing.” He says.

“Bullshit.” She retorts. “What the hell was that last night?”

He’s ofcourse not surprised to hear her bring it up, but he has nothing to say about last night. Nothing that would make it any better for neither one of them. He just shrugs.

She’s not having it. “Do you even have any idea how humiliating that was, Blake? You think it’s funny to let me drive out there, worried out of my mind, while you didn’t even have the decency to inform me you’d left?”

“I told you I didn’t want you to come pick me up.”

“And I told you I was doing it anyways.”

He shakes his head, his headache coming back with a vengeance.

“Next time listen to me.”

He knows it’s the wrong thing to say and he wonders if that’s the reason he finds himself saying it. There’s a flicker of anger in her eyes that he never wanted to see directed at him, not from her.

“You called _me_.” She reminds him softly, clenching her teeth. “I have kids, Blake. I left them with the nanny for you.”

Her words hit him hard, regret falling over his features as he realizes the severity of his mistake. “Gwen, I’m— “

“Don’t you dare apologize to me.” She interjects, her voice louder now. “You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew I’d show up and you’d be nowhere to be found. You knew how bad that would make me feel and that’s why you did it.”

He keeps quiet, out of words or answers. He just feels numb; Gwen had somehow managed to wrap herself around every facet of his life already, and even in his darkness and his anger, he still couldn’t get himself to care for another human being the way he cares for her. He finds himself wishing he’d never done any of the things they’ve done together, only to realize he wouldn’t want to have missed it either. He tries to convince himself he doesn’t need her, he can forget her, but he is simply not strong enough to pretend like it didn’t mean a thing.

“Where were you last night?” She asks softly, fear laced in her words as he figures she already knows the answer, just needs to hear him say it.

He can’t.

“You know where I was.”

“Where were you, Blake? Where did you go as I was leaving my kids to come pick you up in the middle of the night?”

Her words almost make him cry, but he won’t let her see him like that. Not anymore.

He feels sick as he confesses what she already knows. “I don’t know her name.”

Gwen nods knowingly, a pained smile forming on her lips. Lips he’s kissed.

“Did it help? Did it make you feel better, any more like a _real_ man?”

“Don’t do that.”

She looks like she can’t breathe, her chest shuddering. “What was I supposed to do?”

He frowns, confused at what she’s asking, confused at how she’s asking—like she cares.

“What?”

“All these rumours, Blake. I just got out of a horrible divorce; lying and cheating is all I’ve known for years. I’d have to be the biggest fool to...— “

“—If you finish that…... _please_ don’t finish that.”

She shakes her head and sniffles. “I was always honest with you.”

And just like that, she sets him off.

“So was I.” He responds loudly, making sure not to yell because he won’t do that to her, but his anger quickly rises until it settles uncomfortably at his chest. “I was honest with you too, the whole time. You know what these tabloids do, how they sell the juiciest story with minimal facts. I was there for you; when you weren’t sure if you liked me or were just using me, I stayed. I stayed because I knew there was something there that was worth the wait. Tell me what did you do?”

As much as it hurt to admit all this, he was glad to finally get it off his chest. He was glad to have a conversation with her that wasn’t insinuated by alcohol flowing through his veins.

Realizing she still hasn’t answered him, he presses her more. “I tell you how I feel about you, damn it, I write you a god damn song and you don’t even give me so much as a chance to explain. You just tell me this will never work, despite the rumours being true or not. If you didn’t want this, you could’ve just said so before, maybe we could’ve had a crack at this friendship thing still. You don’t think you owed me something a little bit better than that half ass goodbye?”

“Blake, that’s not…” Her voice trails off, as if she doesn’t know where to start and he doesn’t let her figure it out either.

“You broke me when you left, Gwen. I didn’t even know it was possible to break more than I did before I met you, but you did. I kept waiting for you to call during these few months between filming, I kept waiting for you to show up at my doorstep, for what? For _fucking_ what, Gwen?”

He should’ve saw it coming, should’ve stopped before he started, but she starts crying then. She breaks down in front of him, without shielding herself one bit. He can do nothing but hang his head, still unable to watch her cry.

“I don’t know what to do, Blake.” She chokes out, voice wavering. “I got scared, I know that. I never…I never wanted to make you feel this way. What we had was special, _you_ are special.”

His breath catches in his lungs as he waits.

“There’s not a day that went by that I didn’t want to call you. Just to hear your voice, your laugh, I was a wreck after I’d left too, Blake. I felt like I didn’t deserve you, I didn’t deserve all the lovely things you’d say to me—I could find no reason as to why you’d mean them.”

He stares in disbelief, her words breaking his heart all over again, his own eyes glistening.

“Your words, your support…they meant everything to me.” She whispers, taking a shaky breath. “They’re such a large part of what helped me heal, what encouraged me to get better.”

She’s saying everything he wants to hear, but for some reason it only adds to his pain. How the hell did they let it get like this? As much as he’s hurt by her rejection, he can’t stand the sight of her this beaten down, this sad; it’s everything he promised to protect her from.

“I need you to understand.” She sobs quietly into her hands.

“I can’t.”

“You’ve been screwing other girls the moment we called it quits.”

He didn’t even take the time to tell her she’s wrong, anger flaring up again like leaves in a windstorm.

“We’re over, Gwen. You did that. You don’t get to tell me how to move on from that.”

“You messed up in Mexico.” She whispers.

He chuckles in frustration, the sound low and painful. “You just keep telling yourself that.”

She sobs again and this time he doesn’t look away.

“I can’t do this with you, not right now.” She whispers as she makes a move towards the door, set on leaving him again.

He steps out of her way dramatically; if she wants to leave, he won’t stop her.

“I didn’t ask you to come up here.”

“You just tried to do this in front of our colleagues, our friends.” She hisses as she walks passed him. “I came here because I realized you needed to get something off your chest.”

Her admission hangs heavily between them—she’d always known him better than anyone else, he’d argue that in some aspects, she knew him better than he knew himself.

“This is fucked up.” He murmurs to himself, momentarily forgetting he’s not alone in his trailer.

She nods in agreement, not thinking anything about his sudden, soft outburst.

“ _You can’t tell me we’ll still be friends_ …”

She whispers the words, but there’s a melody to the way she lets the word slip from her lips. He recognizes the lyrics immediately, a weird feeling creeping into his chest. He wonders if she’d ever let herself listen to his verse for her after everything went down; he wonders if she listens to his voice when she starts missing him extra badly.

He goes for it then, all the pain he feels momentarily smoothed over by her speaking the words he wrote.

“Maybe someday we can try again.”

She smiles ruefully, her smile faltering as takes the last few steps towards the exit.

“Take care, Blake.”


	6. Last Thing I Needed

She got home just in time to hug her kids’ goodnight, which was the only reason she didn’t fall apart. Kingston had hugged her extra tightly, probably noticing something was up—or maybe he just felt like she needed some support after her very public divorce; it’s crazy to think _that_ isn’t even finalized yet and she’s already trying to get over another heartbreak.

She knows Blake is hurting. She knows that the Blake she’s been around lately on the Voice is not the person he is on the inside and part of her feels guilty. She feels guilty for making him feel like she saw him as this typical bad boy—loves to drink, hook up with girls, flirt, party—instead of telling him the truth. Part of her feels like he’s just acting the part since he feels like no one can see the real him.

Her phone startles her as it starts ringing and a soft smile appears on her face when she sees it’s Lizzy. She hadn’t been able to tell her family too much about this—they’d think she’s crazy for getting herself involved with another man while still laying in the ruins of her divorce. Lizzy had been the only one who’s gotten a little peek behind the curtains, letting her in on her feelings for a certain cowboy, and how all her hope recently went up in flames.

“Gwennie, sweetheart, how are you?”

Her friend sounds concerned and she realizes she’s been truly horrible to everyone close to her; keeping herself locked away for the most part.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a horrible friend.” She says softly into the phone, stretching herself out on her couch.

“Don’t be silly.” Her friend counters. “Come on, Gwen. Talk to me.”

She didn’t want to bother anyone with her crazy feelings, but since her friend is asking and she’s the only one she can tell, her thoughts come tumbling out involuntarily.

“It’s just all so messed up, Liz. I managed to find a friend in the midst of all this chaos, who literally went through the exact same thing at the exact same time, and I fucked it up.”

“Don’t say that, sweetie. You didn’t.”

“Yes I did.” She breathes, feeling her eyes water instantly. “He was so good to me. We could talk for hours and he just wanted to be around me, you know? Not Gwen Stefani the celebrity, but just me. It was enough for him.”

“As it should be.” Lizzy chimes in, taking a quick shot at her ex-husband.

Gwen smiles softly, but it turns into a frown quickly enough. “I freaked out. He sent me this beautiful verse of a song and I…. I loved it and I was going to tell him that….”

“Why didn’t you, love?”

She closes her eyes, the wetness in her eyes now pooling down her cheeks once more.

“Because right after I wrote my verse, I found all these stories online about him in Mexico; hooking up with random girls in his hotel, getting black out drunk. All that stuff…” Her voice trails off as she remembers that dreadful day.

“I thought you said you didn’t believe that stuff. That it was just shitty tabloid material that some pathetic loser behind a keyboard came up with.”

Gwen laughs quietly, remembering using these exact words in a text to Lizzy not long after having read the stories online.

“I didn’t. _I don’t._ ”

“Gwen, baby, I am super confused right now.”

“What if that’s what he’s _supposed_ to do right now?” Gwen confesses silently. “I mean, really…what is he gonna do with a divorced woman in her mid-forties with three kids? He’s on top of his game, not to mention he’s younger—he can do all that stuff and I have no right to hold him back.”

There’s a loud silence on the other end of the line and it’s enough to drive her crazy.

“Is that how Blake feels?” Lizzy asks.

“It’s how he should feel.”

She knows she’s acting like a little girl who’s afraid to stick around for the ending, but she can’t help it. She’s been hurt so bad in the past; she owes her heart a break.

“Don’t you think that should be his choice?” Her friend asks carefully. “If he wants to be around you regardless, doesn’t that just mean that maybe, _finally_ , you’ve caught a lucky break?”

She huffs into the phone, her eyes closing. “It’s exactly that naive thinking I can’t allow myself to engage in anymore.”

“We all see how he looks at you, still…” Her friend continues, ignoring her previous comment. “No matter what’s going on between you two, he can’t help but look at you like you hung the moon in front of millions of people.”

That shuts her up for a moment and she doesn’t know whether she feels like screaming or crying. She’s been so focused on the fact that he barely acknowledges her anymore backstage and how he disagrees with her more often than not when it comes to comments and critiques, that she didn’t even pay attention to the things he _did_ still do.

“He doesn’t look at me like that…” She whispers in a failed attempt to convince herself.

“Uh, yeah he does.”

She can’t talk about it any longer; she tries to be as friendly as possible when she tells her friend she needs to just get some sleep and tries to hide the way her breath hitches when Lizzy agrees. She wants to talk to Blake, but she knows that any text or call she’ll send him now, will most likely be ignored.

It’s how she finds herself going another week without contact, another week filled with missing the friendship they once shared. The Voice studio is no longer just an escape, it’s now also her prison; no matter how much she enjoys her job, it’s torture to be so close to the one person she wants more of, but can’t have—can’t even get him to give her the time of day until the cameras start rolling, and even then, it’s minimal.

Even though the audience is oblivious to the drama going on backstage, her co-workers are not so lucky and she’s not surprised when Adam pulls her to the side during the commercial break.

“Have you talked to Blake lately?”

She inhales sharply, even the mention of his name starting to sting a bit. She looks around her, automatically searching for the tall cowboy anywhere, but she quickly realizes it’s just her and Adam there.

“Uhm, no...” She stammers. “I mean, I have last week, but not after that.”

“Dude, you two gotta figure something out. This is crazy.”

She knows her friend is right, but there’s not much she can do about it. Whatever they had is now tainted by her fear-fuelled decision and all she can do now is sit this season of the Voice out and after that, say goodbye to it for good.

“It’s not that easy.” She says softly, a bit unsure of how much Adam is actually aware of and how much she can share.

“No shit.” Adam retorts, looking at her sympathetically. “You know, for what it’s worth—I disagree with everything he’s doing right now.”

His choice of words makes her look up at him, her mind racing with all that his words imply. She doesn’t want to think about Blake falling back into that hole she once helped him crawl out of, she doesn’t want to think about Blake spending the night with anyone else but her, but she also knows she’s way out of luck here.

She asks the question she immediately regrets asking, the moment it slips off her lips. “How bad is it?”

Adam shrugs, trying his best not to upset her. “If you’re asking if it’s as bad as before, it’s not.”

She exhales deeply at that, but still isn’t satisfied with his answer, sensing he’s holding back quite a bit. “But….?”

“But, he’s not himself right now. That much is clear.”

“You mean he’s sleeping around?”

The words fly out of her mouth before she can stop them and she watches as Adam winces. He doesn’t grant her comment with a verbal response, but she doesn’t think she needs one. Honestly, she doesn’t think she can handle one.

“He wants you, Gwen.” Adam says next, sweetly. “He wants you and it’s killing him that things didn’t work out.”

“He hasn’t said a word to me since I’ve gotten here.” She admits softly, tears pooling in her eyes. “I just don’t know how to fix this one, Adam.”

“ _Forty seconds’ guys_.” One of the producers yells in warning, telling them their conversation has come to an end.

Her friend shoots her one last supportive glance before they both head out there again, finding Blake already—or still—seated in his chair. She’s not surprised to see he doesn’t look up at all when she walks back to her own chair, but the tears stinging in the back of her eyes get noticeably worse regardless.

She tries to push back the nauseating feeling that threatens to take over, for the sake of good television but it’s not coming easy to her. Her team performs well, but even in their commentary she sounds off to her own ears. The feeling only gets worse when Blake seems to be in great spirits all the sudden, the audience putty in his hands as he continues to charm all of America.

When the producers wave to indicate they’re done, she pretty much runs off, needing desperately to fall apart in the security of her own trailer. She should’ve known she wouldn’t be that lucky—but she didn’t expect Gavin to be the reason this time.

She’s in no condition to deal with this at all, but she has no choice but to walk up to him if she ever wants to get inside her trailer. Swallowing down the huge lump in her throat, she finally manages to look at him.

“What are you doing here?” She asks more than annoyed, her lips forming a straight line.

“Can we talk?” He asks softly, his tone indicating he wants something from her and it reminds her of all the times she’s caved in the past.

“Gavin, this is really not a good time, I’m— “

“It’s about the kids, Gwen.” He interrupts.

She’s filled with worry suddenly and apparently, it shows because her ex-husband immediately starts explaining.

“It’s nothing bad, can we just talk for a second. It won’t take long.”

She steps in front of him, holding the door open for him to follow her inside. When he asks her for more time with the kids, a part of her wants to laugh at the irony, but at the same time she’s glad to finally see some effort. It’s the last thing she wants to grant him, but she’s learned quickly not to be selfish when it comes to the children and so she agrees—the only condition being that the kids don’t mind spending an extra week away. Gavin agrees immediately and she can’t remember a conversation going that civil in a while; it’s the first gentle break she encounters during these last few weeks.

They eventually walk out together, Gavin’s hand on her arm stopping her suddenly.

“Thank you, Gwen.” He says softly, turning to face her as his hand never moves from her arm. “I know that probably wasn’t easy and I have no right to ask this from you, really….”

“You don’t...” She agrees quickly. “I just want to do what’s right for the kids.”

He nods. “I know. I just wanted to say thank you, I guess.”

It’s crazy how this man once used to mean the world to her, how his attention would be all she’d crave, while now it’s hard to look at him without a whole bunch of negative emotions.

“You’re welcome.” She whispers hoarsely.

He retreats his arm finally, the motion causing a breath of relief to course through her veins. It turns out to be short-lived.

“Can I hug you?”

She’s not sure she heard him right, her eyes widening at his request, but he doesn’t budge. The world must be playing a cruel joke on her, but she’s too tired to fight it, and quite frankly, she’s really not interested in causing a scene right here in front of all her colleagues and the producers. Reluctantly, she steps forward and lets him hug her.

It all hits her suddenly; the way she’s been trying to keep it together during filming, the fact that she’s once again robbed from time with her kids, the heartbreak that prevents her from sleeping and now her ex-husband finally holding her with what feels like care, only twenty years too late. Her resolve breaks and she lingers just a moment too long, not caring that the arms holding her upright are from the one person she can’t stand to be around.

“Are you okay?” He asks suddenly, probably sensing the way she’s not retreating from him, which was obviously expected.

She takes a shaky breath in, finding her composure as she pushes herself out of his embrace and straightens her clothes.

“Yeah.” She says mildly convincing. “I’m fine.”

It’s only then that she spots Blake from the corner of her eye, his back leaning against the side of her trailer, his lip caught between his teeth. It occurs to her that he probably read the whole situation wrong and she nearly cries out of desperation; things just keep getting worse and worse. Her ex-husband finally walks off after what feels like an eternity and when she turns around to her trailer, she expects Blake to no longer be there, but to her surprise he hasn’t moved an inch.

“Blake.” She breathes as she slowly approaches him, not sure how to start the conversation now that she finally has his attention. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.” He responds coldly, the look on his face not giving anything away.

“That wasn’t what it looked like…” She starts, not quite sure why she’s even starting to defend herself when he’s been doing God knows what out there. It’s that thought that causes her to backtrack what she was about to do. “Actually, no, you don’t get to be jealous right now, Blake.”

“I’m not.” He drawls lowly, his eyes boring into hers. “We’re over, you made that very clear—you can do whatever the hell you want.”

“Just like you’ve been doing whatever the hell _you_ want?”

“That’s right.”

She feels like throwing up, but she straightens her back instead, swallowing down the bitter taste in her mouth.

“I’ve had one hell of a day Blake, so if there’s anything you want to say, please say it—otherwise, let me go home.”

She finds herself secretly hoping for something, anything that will give her a reason to keep her there with him longer, but she’s met with another disappointment when he speaks.

He shakes his head, smiling faintly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Gwen.”

*

She won’t ever be able to explain how much she detest coming home to an empty home. There’s so much still to get rid of, so much she doesn’t want to be reminded of; like the exact place where she found out about her ex-husbands infidelity for the last time, or the bathroom floor where she cried all her make-up off after numerous fights that left her feeling empty. The only good thing about this house anymore are the memories of her kids growing up here, but when even they aren’t around, it’s just a bunch of walls that hold all her dirty secrets and tragic history.

She’d say the knock on her front door came at the perfect timing, but considering the time, there’s only one person she felt like she could expect and nothing about that was reassuring.

“ _Blake_.” She manages to sigh out, her hand gripping onto the door more tightly as she takes in his frame.

She barely has time to register his next move as he quickly pushes her back, closes the door and presses her back against it. She gasps in shock at the sudden twist of events and should’ve seen the kiss coming from a mile away, but didn’t. The moment his lips crash onto hers, she doesn't think it matters anyways—he’s doing what they’ve both been meaning to do ever since they parted ways.

His lips are rough against hers, taking and claiming while all she can do is grab onto his shirt, his face, even his shoulders at some point. She reminds herself to keep breathing, but the way his tongue caresses hers and his upper body presses her more firmly against the door has her letting go of all air way before she can inhale it.

Their lips part for a second, but he seems nowhere near ready to let her go. His lips trail across her cheek, kiss at her jaw and the silky-smooth skin covering the column of her throat. A desperate sound makes it past her lips when he sucks on her pulse point and she can feel him smile against her skin, knowing he’s the only one who brings that reaction out of her.

It’s that exact realization that has her pushing at his chest to create some distance.

“Blake—what are you doing?” The words stutter out of her mouth so incredibly fragile she wonders if he could even take them serious.

He seems to compose himself a little, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why don’t you tell me, Gwen? It seems like you’ve been deciding for the both of us from the start.”

“Oh— _god no_ …” She huffs, feeling slightly silly for believing for even a second this could go any other way than bad. “What are you doing here? You came here to kiss the living daylights out of me, maybe even fuck me? That why you’re here?”

He steps closer to her again, a look of anger in his eyes but she ignores it. Instead, she moves past him and walks into the living room, eyes closing at the sound of his footsteps behind her.

“I came here because I can’t stand to see you on that damn set while having to pretend like it’s not bothering me. I came here to see you, Gwen. Nothing more, nothing less.”

It’s definitely not what she expected him to say and then it dawns on her that maybe that’s why he said it in the first place.

“You think it’s fun for me to have to see you there and be reminded of the mess we’re in?”

He shrugs. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“You’re mad, I get that, I really do— “

“—Don’t, Gwen. You don’t get it. You could _never_ get it.”

“Stop doing that, Blake. Stop making it seem like it didn’t completely destroy me to walk away, to be the one to hurt you like that…”

“Spare me that, Gwen. You didn’t care. You _don’t_ care.”

Her eyes fill up on their own accord, her heart hurting.

“You’re an idiot.” She spats, walking away from him until she reaches her dinner table. She digs into her purse frantically before finding what she's looking for, chucking the USB at him. He catches it with a confused look on his face and she swallows loudly.

“Listen to this—or don’t. I wrote a verse for you immediately after hearing yours, I just didn’t send it. Don’t you dare say I didn’t care Blake, I did way more than just care—I was in _love_ with you.”

It feels like hours as they stand face to face, his gaze relentless as the expression on his face chances from confusion to passion, the USB disappearing into his jeans pocket. And just like that, his lips are on hers and he’s pushing her backwards onto her couch. She whimpers from the sheer intensity of his actions, but doesn’t make any move to try and create more distance—all the contrary, she urges him on more. It’s not until his hand moves to undo the buttons of her pants that she pries her lips away from his and looks at him questionably.

“Blake…. what are you— “

“—Nothing you don’t want.” He interrupts quickly, settling himself on his knees in front of the couch, smirking at the slight gasp that slips off her lips. He gets rid of her pants quickly, teasing her over the lace fabric. He licks his lips before running a finger up her folds, holding her panties aside with one finger. “You’re already so wet, Gwen. Why?”

He’s taunting her and she knows it, yet her resolve is desperately weakening. She’s been on bad terms with him long enough, she can’t possibly withhold any more truths from him.

“Because it’s you.” She whispers vulnerably.

He doesn’t say anything; he just looks at her before bending down and nipping at her inner thighs. Her breathing is already getting ragged and she blames the amount of time it’s been since she’s had him like this—her fantasies never beating the real thing. The thought of Blake having been this intimate with other women in the meantime crosses her mind briefly and she squints her eyes as if to physically push the thought out of her system.

She gasps again when he runs his tongue from the very bottom of her slit, all the way up, stopping just short of her clit. She flinches at his next move.

“Christ, Blake.” She moans softly, her hands clutching his head before she yelps out. “What the hell was that for?”

He bites her again, his teeth sinking into the flesh of her inner thigh harder this time, and her back arches slightly.

“Don’t touch me.” He grits out, his blue eyes darkening as they narrow in on her. “I don’t want you touching me, I don’t want you to do anything but focus on how I’m making you feel.”

In the back of her mind she knows he’s still upset and wants to reclaim control in some way, while also wanting her to know exactly how much he affects her. Despite feeling incredibly vulnerable as she literally lets herself be his for the taking, she nods in agreement, both of her hands landing on the cushions next to her legs.

He drops his head again, his tongue slipping inside slowly and she curses out her pleasure, unable to hold onto him while he makes her feel this good.

“Fuck.” Her teeth press into her bottom lip hard.

Her reaction makes him proud, it seems, as he chuckles to himself and wraps his lips firmly around her clit to suck for a moment.

“Tell me how much you want it, Gwen.”

“Oh God.” She moans, her legs starting to tremble from the tension of trying not to clamp around his head. “Please, Blake…. _please._ ”

He splays his hand in front of his face, holding her open as his tongue clicks over her clit again. “I didn’t tell you to beg, Gwen. I told you to tell me how much you want this.”

She whimpers in frustration. “That _is_ how much I want it, Blake. I can’t…. I need this, God I want it so bad.”

“You want me?” He asks again, his tongue still lightly touching her.

She nods furiously, unable to form anymore words as he so relentlessly renders her speechless. When he picks up a speed that she knows will finish her quickly, her hands subconsciously slide through his hair again and he nips at her thighs once more, stopping his actions altogether.

“I told you not to touch me.”

She watches him crawl up her body, his face only an inch from hers. She looks into his eyes for a moment and then tilts her head when he covers her mouth with his hand.

“Shhhh.” He hushes, thrusting two fingers into her suddenly. He catches her deep, low, cry in his palm and bends his head to whisper a soft command in her ear. “Quiet, Gwen.” 

She closes her eyes as she fights the urges to touch him and make a sound, but again, he’s not having it.

“Look at me.”

When she opens her eyes to look at him, she’s met with a mischievous look in his eyes, enjoying the way that sparkle seems to have found its way back into his irises—she’s been missing that lately. His gaze is intense as his fingers never stop moving between her thighs and he’s telling her without words exactly what he’s doing and why.

“This…” He whispers before thrusting his fingers particularly hard into her, “…is for no one else. I could never want anyone the way I want you—the way I _need_ you.”

Her hands dig into the couch as her body starts to tense and break, the feeling of his fingers slowly sliding out and roughly slamming back in about to be her undoing. She knows he’s shaking the bottle and waiting for the right moment to pop the cork, and it’s killing her not to be able to grab him or kiss him.

As soon as his lips crash onto hers, he swipes his thumb across her clit and she feels as though she’s being ripped apart by pleasure. She screams his name into his mouth, her body convulsing a she whimpers and moans against his lips. His fingers continue moving, bringing a second orgasm on the heels of her first.

“Shit, Blake… _oh my god_.” She gasps, shuddering as the desperation mounts. “Can I please touch you?”

He nods his head and she damn near cries, she needs him so bad. Her hands fly to the back of his head, cradling him closer to her.

“One more.” He moans as he kisses her deeply. “For me, baby. Come on.”

His thumb shifts and jostles over her clit faster and the frustrated growl that escapes her sends shivers up his arms, she can tell from where his sleeve is rolled up. He slows his fingers and his kisses, and it gives her a strange feeling of safety, enough to shatter once more in the comfort of his arms.

Her grip on him doesn’t loosen and she thinks he might’ve blacked out for a little too because he’s not protesting at all. When he comes back to himself and strokes her head a few times to help her recover, she realizes he still hasn’t pulled away.

“What now?” She whispers into the crook of his neck.

She can feel him shake his head. “I don’t know.”

She didn’t expect anything else from him necessarily, but the ache in her chest shows her how much she wishes she could. He holds her a little bit tighter and maybe, just maybe it’s not all her; he wants what neither one are saying too.

She knows it’s too soon to be thinking things like this, especially considering this was most likely a slip up on his part, but she can’t help herself—she doesn’t want him to leave.

“Are you planning on staying?”

Blake’s eyes widen at her question, apparently not expecting it. His gaze stays on her for a few seconds before he lowers it and swallows.

“I probably shouldn’t.”

She doesn’t reply—doesn’t feel like she can—and just nods. She suddenly feels dirty about what they did, pushing herself out of his grasp completely and picking up her panties he tossed to the side somewhere.

“Okay.” She breathes out after getting herself dressed again, keeping her head down so he won’t be able to see the way her eyes fill. “I get it, Blake.”

Blake pushes himself off her couch, slowly approaching her without entering her personal space; if she weren’t so hurt, she’d laugh at the irony.

“You get what, Gwen?”

She lets out a quiet scoff. “What this was to you.”

“I told you, I missed you and I wanted you.”

“And now you had me.” Her voice is sharp yet low, the realization why he visited suddenly hitting her hard. “You’re turning me into this casual thing, a girl who’ll always be in for a random hook-up because she likes you.”

“That’s bullshit.” He says through gritted teeth.

She curses quietly under her breath, turning away from him as emotion threatens to overtake her.

“Don’t do this.” He rasps to her back, as she feels him stepping up behind her. “Don’t make me out to be the bad guy in this situation, when you know damn well you wanted this just as badly.”

She swings around immediately at his words.

“I didn’t think you’d leave.”

“That’s the problem with you, Gwen; you assume, you don’t ask.” His voice is firm, but his face looks just as hurt as hers. “How the hell am I supposed to know what you want?”

“What, you thought I’d _like_ it for you to just take me and leave?” She rolls her eyes as waves of anger suddenly wash over her, making her words roll off her tongue with venom. “I think you got me confused with some of these groupies you’ve been taking home.”

She knows she’s letting anger get in the way of things so she doesn’t have to face anything deeper, but what really throws her off is the way Blake acts; he looks pissed as hell at her comment, but he doesn’t rise to her level—instead he lets his eyes travel over her face slowly until he speaks.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“So what are you waiting for?”

He swallows roughly, the clenching of his jaw indicating that he’s barely holding on himself.

“I didn’t come here to make things worse. I don’t know where I stand with you, Gwen; I know that you turned me down, only to let me do what we did just now. It’s confusing me… _you_ confuse me.”

She stares back at him, momentarily stunned into silence. She wants to be offended by what he just said, but she also knows he’s not entirely wrong; she is giving mixed messages.

“Just because I can’t be with you, doesn’t mean I stopped liking you, Blake.”

“That means nothing to me.”

His unexpectedly harsh words hit her hard, her breath hitching. She stares at him for a few beats before running a hand through her hair, anger suddenly turning into nerves. She secretly hopes he will fill the silence, but she quickly learns his silence may have been more comfortable.

“We always end up with you regretting me—tell me, is that what you’re doing right now?”

Her eyes plead with him to reason with her.

“You know it shouldn’t have happened.” She whispers brokenly. “Surely that’s one thing we can agree on.”

He shakes his head so slightly, that if she weren’t staring at him so hard she may have missed it.

“So that’s it then?” His eyes move to the wall behind her. “It’s like you want me to do the one thing you know you’ll regret, only to make me stay afterwards to watch you do it.”

The statement and his lack of eye contact makes her chest ache in the worst way. “You make it sound like a game, like I take pleasure out of hurting you.”

He doesn’t answer and that might be more painful than any of his words could’ve been.

“I’m sorry for showing up here tonight.” He says eventually, his apology throwing her off. “I shouldn’t have.”

“Blake— “

She’s cut off by him as he takes a step towards her, his hand reaching out for her face as he cups her cheek. She tries to keep her composure but underneath her chest is hammering a million miles.

“—I missed you and I caved, but you’re right, this wasn’t fair. It won’t happen again.”

She knows he’s letting his rational mind do the talking now, shutting off every emotional thing that’s laying on the tip of his tongue, just to make things easier, to try and undo what happened. She swallows roughly at his proximity and words, not entirely sure what he wants her to say or do right now.

She knows he’s going to walk out and leave her here, alone and confused, wishing he would’ve stayed, but she can’t blame him; he needs the words and reassurance she won’t give him—not tonight, not like this. She also knows that with them it won’t ever be over and when it comes down to it, he’ll cave again and they’ll find themselves here every single time he does.

“Okay.” She whispers eventually, her voice barely anything as his fingers still graze her cheeks.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Gwen. Not anymore.”

She wonders if he’s aware of how much it hurts her to not have him, how much it hurts her to watch him leave. But he’s trying to do good by her now so she gives him a weak smile in response. She closes her eyes to prevent her from having to watch him leave only moments later.


	7. You've Got Me Dreaming

He tried so hard to control himself, to not let the sight of her set him off in a lust-filled rage, but he’d failed terribly—deliciously—after she revealed to him her verse. The quickness in which he’d grown addicted to the taste of her lips could be considered criminal, but he’d be damned if he cared.

He didn’t need to hear the words to her verse to know he’d love it, but sitting here in his rental, listening to her soft, sensual voice singing to him makes him feel so much, he might go out of his mind. He places the coffee mug on the counter, the view of concrete all he sees out of the large window, making him miss the view of outstretched nature that much more. Even the smell of his place in Oklahoma gives him a taste of freedom he’ll never experience anywhere else, but Gwen’s voice comes damn close.

 _“I never ever meant to get so into you._  
_I thought I was using you just to get me through.”_

 _You know I’m broken, I don’t trust anyone._  
_Last thing I needed was to fall in love._

He thinks he might’ve played that part back fifty times, just to hear her say those words; l _ast thing I needed was to fall in love_. He feels like an ass for implying she didn’t care about him, but there’s so much nowadays he feels bad about, he can’t ponder on it for too long. He takes a deep breath as the recording plays on, his hands balling up into fists as he thinks about the woman only a fifteen-minute drive away, who poured her heart into a song that was meant for him, in a way he never could.

 _“You’ve got me dreaming, got me thinking, I’ve got some hope._  
_There is nobody else I want to get to know._

 _But I’m so scared, I don’t know what to do._  
_How did you get me so into you?”_

There’s a rush of bitterness that coats his tongue as he takes in her words; she wanted him the same way he wanted her—things could’ve been so different if only she saw past her fear. He can’t blame her fully, he knows the damage tabloids can do to a relationship, let alone a woman who’s been scorched by love so many times it should be illegal. He just hoped he could’ve made an impression on her that would exceed whatever she might read or hear from others. Knowing he _couldn’t_ , makes him feel like he failed her and failed himself.

Just as he’s about to hit play again, the recording ending abruptly making him wince and grunt in frustration since he needs to keep hearing her voice, his phone lights up with a text from his friend. He completely forgot about the Voice party tomorrow night, and can’t help but wonder if Gwen remembered and if so, if she’d be there. He knows he won’t get out of this one, regardless of Gwen’s presence, but he’d be lying if he said his mood didn’t fully depend on whether she’d show up or not. He’d also be lying if he said that the thought of seeing her wasn’t still the main reason he got up most mornings.

She hasn't talked to him in a few days, not since he showed up on her doorstep unannounced, but he knows she's not happy with how things played out that night. He secretly hoped for a text or call the day after, anything to let him know that she's okay and they didn't just take five steps backwards. Unfortunately, he was not graced with that luck, but he made himself no illusions; he didn't deserve it.

*

The music is too loud to be considered comfortable, especially when he really wants to spark conversation with the blond goddess who seems to be enjoying herself perfectly, despite the music blaring so loud he feels the vibrations of it in his chest. It’s clear she’s staying out of his way purposefully, clinging to the presence of other’s to not have to indulge in any contact with him. He’s not sure if it’s because she regrets what happened only two days ago, or because she _doesn’t._

He watches her from a distance for a while, watching how these plump lips quirk upward whenever she hears or sees something funny, revealing a flash of white teeth and he’s reminded of what these lips did to him the last time they were together. He gets about two more minutes to stare at her before Adam comes crashing his lonely party.

“This is getting out of control, dude.”

Adam’s yelling in his ear and he winces at it, despite struggling to make out the words. He waves his hand dismissively, not feeling like making up excuses but also not wanting to sound as pathetic as he feels—he doesn’t owe him a justification for his desperation.

He probably should’ve left when he saw her, should’ve called it a night, even better—he shouldn’t have come at all. But he needed to see her, even if he didn’t get a chance to be with her one on one. It’s like every sense is heightened in his chest, a rare, unprecedented force making him unable to look away from her.

“Shut up, Adam.” He blurts not so adequately, rolling his eyes. “Tell me you came here to bring me another drink.”

Adam snorts. “Not quite. But you can stop being so boring and walk with me to get one.”

There are a million other things he’d rather do than move from this spot where he can look at her so clearly, but the thought of a drink is what eventually compels him to give into his friend’s request. Walking through the mass of people, the air sticky and dry, he’s reminded why he’s way too old to be going to these so-called parties—the gorgeous woman no longer being in view anymore doesn’t help his mood either.

“At what time do you think it stops being inappropriate to leave?” He damn near yells at Adam, trying to get his question across over the loud music.

He watches his friend snort while accepting two drinks as he hands one out to him. “You do realize this party is thrown for us, right? I’d say at least an hour.”

“There are too many people here, Adam.” He retorts annoyed. “You can barely call this a party. It’s a club.”

“Clubs are parties, dumbass.”

“I haven’t seen a single executive yet.”

Adam smiles wickedly. “That’s because your eyes have been on Gwen ever since you got here.”

He should’ve known Adam would take notice; this whole evening has been a blatant disregard for her privacy as he eyed her for most of her time here. He can’t even try to deny this one and just looks at his friend before taking a large sip of his drink.

“Things are just weird right now.”

Adam nods. “Tell me about it. I don’t know what the hell is going on between you two but I know you and dude, you need to fix whatever you did.”

That angers him. “Why would you assume it was _me_ who fucked up?”

“You weren’t?”

He can’t even answer that. He’d been so hell bend on doing everything right; about Gwen unfairly pushing him aside while he did everything right, but everything that has happened in these last few weeks has been just as much on him as it was on her.

“It’s complicated.”

“Good luck man.”

Blake looks up at his friend in a confused manner, especially when Adam pats his shoulder and walks off, until he finds the reason for his friend’s sudden departure.

She’s sitting too close to him now for him to be anything but brazen about the way he stares. Her blonde hair gets this gloomy glow under the dim lights of the place, her eyes sparkling in a way he hasn’t seen in a while, but maybe that’s due to the lights as well, he’s not sure. It’s crazy how he’d given up on love, hope or redemption, on anything really, before meeting her. This person has turned his whole world upside down. He knew he’d never be immune to her, but he didn’t expect the universe to give him something so beautiful just to whisk it away from him so fast and sudden. She catches him staring and her features soften, manicured hands wrapped tightly around her glass while the straw slightly parts her lips. She flushes underneath his gaze and he finds the power somewhere deep inside to lower his gaze away from her.

A few seconds after having done so, he feels those familiar hands on his shoulder, squeezing softly.

“Can we talk somewhere?”

Her mouth is super close to his ear due to the noise of their surroundings, but the warmth spreading across the shell of his ear has him stirring uncomfortable already.

He gulps, before turning towards her, nodding softly. “Yeah.”

He sees her sigh in relief and he wishes he could tell her how he _really_ feels right now; how he loves her, how that very love is what’s going to get him killed. He wants to tell her how badly he wishes things could’ve been different and how he’d do anything for her.

He follows her hastily when she makes a move to lead them out of the crowded place, into a quieter space in the back; he guesses it’s the VIP lounge as she leads him up the stairs into a private room, a few people sitting on a leather couch in the back, not even looking up when they hear them arrive.

They sit down at the opposite side of the room, the leather creaking beneath his weight as he shifts a bit uncomfortably. It’s with the music turned down so much that he finally feels the ringing of his ears. She looks at him with so much anticipation, he fights the urge to ask her what the hell she wants from him.

Instead the other spectrum of the truth spills out.

“You look quite stunning tonight.”

She smiles bashfully, her thumb nervously rubbing over her knuckles.

“Thank you.” She replies after a few seconds. “It was just so weird to be in the same place as you and not talk to you—especially after what happened a few nights ago.”

He raises his eyebrows, surprised to hear her bring it up. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself. I didn’t want to ruin that.”

“You never—” She swallows down the rest of her words, but he hears them loud and clear. He desperately wants to hear her say them, but he’s not that much of a fool that he expects her to.

She looks like she’s scrambling to find any words to speak, so he beats her to it.

“I listened to your verse.”

He watches her breath catch, her eyes widening. “You did?”

He hums, his whole being feeling the same sensations it did while listening to her perfect words and beautiful voice singing to him. He’s suddenly not sure if he’s able to talk to her about it just yet.

“You one-upped me, tha’s for sure.” He chuckles, trying to wave it off jokingly.

She frowns and brings it back to the subject—like she always does.

“No it wasn’t. Your part was real, it was beautiful.”

“So was yours.” His reply is immediate.

They sit in quiet for a few minutes after that, neither sure what to do now the tension between them seems to be a different kind; one where they’re not on the brink of arguing.

He tries to let out a few controlled breaths, attempting to ease the anxiety that creeps into his chest and throat.

“Will you ever be able to understand?” She whispers, her eyes glossy all the sudden.

He’s still getting used to how emotional she is, how she wears her heart on her sleeves at all times and doesn’t shy away from letting him see her breaking down. It’s something he admires about her, especially after being taught to do the opposite in the duration of his marriage.

“Understand what, Gwen?”

“Why I did what I did. Why I walked away.”

He doesn’t know what’s gotten into her to suddenly make her this brazen, this straightforward, but it certainly helps to spark the same kind of transparency within him.

He shakes his head, but his words contradict his body’s reflex. “I understand why you got scared, I just thought we were in a place where we were strong enough to beat these kind of fears. I guess I was wrong about that.”

He didn’t mean to sound bitter or angry, but there was definitely disappointment laced in his words that she couldn’t have missed.

“Blake, I….” She swallows her words _again_ and he thinks he might actually go insane soon.

“I’m just gonna need some time, Gwen.” He says suddenly, noticing the stutter in her words. “To get over this, get over you. I’m not angry anymore, I’m just hurt and I’m gonna need time to get that to settle and maybe, _maybe_ we can actually be friends again at some point.”

He knows the end of his statement is a lie, he won’t be able to go back to having a friendship with this beyond awesome woman, because feelings would crash right back into him, faster than waves on a shore. But still, he feels the overwhelming need to comfort her, give her peace of mind even while struggling to find any himself.

She swallows roughly. “You mean the world to me, Blake. I don’t want to lose you.”

He’s taken aback by the love and gentleness lacing her words and he almost thinks she’s talking about something other than his friendship. Almost.

“You won’t lose me. I’ll still be here whenever you need me.”

He means that. Despite knowing that he needs to take as much distance as possible to get over these raging feelings for her, he knows it’ll still only take one call from her in distress to show up at her doorstep.

She shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean. I’m sorry I walked away from you, Blake. I’m so sorry.”

His voice is gravelly and thick suddenly.

“Gwen, what are you saying?”

He can tell the exact moment she decides it’s not worth it and swallows her words, her hands suddenly more restless as she looks up at him apologetically.

“Maybe we should head back downstairs—it is our party.” She smiles softly, trying to smooth over the disappointment she must be met with in his eyes.

“Sure.” He waves his hand in front of her, swallowing down all his words rooted in frustration.

She’s about to head towards the stairs, when he grabs her wrist and spins her around, backing her up against the wall. He’s been waiting until they were finally out of eyesight from the few partygoers upstairs.

“What are you doing?” She whispers, but her eyes betray how she already knows exactly what’s about to happen.

He doesn’t answer her verbally, just closes the distance and lets himself taste her soft lips again, the ones he’s spent all night staring at. He feels her hands come up his chest, sliding to the broad of his shoulders until she lets her arms fall across his neck—giving in. He smiles into their kiss, his fingers tangling into her hair until his hands cup her face to hold her in place.

He kisses her as deeply as he can, finding himself wishing he could pull her even closer, and his heart flutters when he feels her go up onto her tiptoes and her arms around his neck tightening for balance. He pulls back to breathe for a moment, her lips wet and lipstick smeared; she looks beyond divine.

Her chest is heaving as she struggles to speak. “I can’t control myself around you.”

It’s all he needs to hear for his mouth to seek out hers again, but she turns her head causing him to scatter wet kisses down her exposed throat.

“I don’t want you to.” He murmurs lowly against the skin right below her cheekbone, giving it a gentle but deliberate lick.

“It’s not fair to you.” She pants, her arousal incredibly apparent and he smirks at the sight of it.

“Maybe not.” He concedes, his lips finally getting to touch hers again. “But I don’t care.”

Just as he’s about to push her upper body further back against the wall, she’s pushing at his chest, keeping some distance while his knee is still pressed between her thighs, keeping her pressed against the wall.

“You should.” She whispers sadly. “Care.”

He places both hands on the wall next to her head and forces himself to exhale deeply.

“Gwen, you don’t want me—I’m aware of that and I still want this right now. It’s not that I don’t care, I’m just not making myself any illusions anymore.”

He’s once again surprised to see sadness all over her features, but gets a glimpse inside her head when she decides to be painfully honest with him.

“So am I just going to be one of those girls you randomly hook up with? Because I’m not super excited to be added to _that_ list.”

Just like that, his passion turns from lust to anger, but he doesn’t move an inch from their position against the wall.

“Aren’t you doing the same thing with me? You told me you don’t want to be with me, but you also confessed you can’t control yourself around me. Don’t kid yourself, Gwen.”

“That's not the same thing and you know it.” She says softly, biting the inside of her cheek as if to restrain herself from going off. “I admit, I made a bunch of mistakes, I’m still making them now, but I never used you.”

He lets out a short laugh under his breath, shaking his head. “You never used me?”

“No.” She says hoarsely, her hands now sliding off his chest before realizing he’s not going anywhere. “I didn’t. I was honest with you.”

“When Gwen?” He says more loudly than he intended, frustration getting the best of him again. “Cause you sure as hell weren’t honest when you said you wanted me and considering where we are right now, you weren’t being honest when you said you trusted me either. So tell me, when exactly were you honest with me?”

She leans a little bit more into his personal space before snapping at him in a harsh whisper.

“You said you didn’t want anything casual when it came to me, yet you barge into my house and try to fuck me like a random groupie. You really wanna talk about honesty?”

She’s breathing heavier and he takes notice of the way her eyes flutter shut and open again.

"You think that is what I wanted with you? I never wanted you to be something casual, I think the song you rejected could've told ya that much. _You_ didn't want me; not the other way around."

“That’s not true.” She settles back against the wall, leaning her head against it as she keeps her hands to herself. “I _do_ want to be with you, Blake. That’s always been the case.”

“But you won’t.”

“Would you still want to?”

He squints his eyes at her, not expecting to be hit with that question and not willing to allow himself to ponder over the meaning.

“That doesn’t matter now, does it?”

All of the sudden, some of that anger he saw pooling in her eyes disappears, her face now laced with hurt. She bites onto her bottom lip and looks up like she’s silently asking God to help her out in this moment and it’s all too much for him to process.

“We almost slept together after the last Voice taping and now you have me backed up against a wall after making out like a bunch of horny teenagers. I’d say it matters, Blake.”

He reaches his hand out to her cheek, and maybe if she had anywhere to go, she’d back away from him, but her body stays put as his fingers grace gently over the soft skin on her cheek.

“I feel like what you want me to say doesn’t match with what you want me to do.”

She tilts her head slightly, her cheek brushing against his palm with the movement.

“I think you don’t know what I want, and I don’t blame you.”

His heart skips a beat as he looks down at her; she looks so small, so vulnerable like this and it’s tugging on all his heartstrings. Despite the vulnerability she portrays, there’s something fiery and fierce underneath; a fire that blazes out of her eyes, engulfing him with the truth.

“Maybe you’re right.” He nods. “What do you want?”

It’s finally out there. The question he’s been meaning to ask for weeks, the question she seemed to be preparing for ever since she pulled him aside.

“ _Everything_.” She says softly, leaning against his hand again as she seeks strength from it. “You.” She adds in a shaky breath. “I want to turn back time and undo what I did, but I can’t, I know that. I just never meant for any of this to happen, you know? To lose you—to be without you.”

His mind is spinning with every word she just uttered, practically offering herself up for him once more, laying it all out on the line.

“I can’t take any more empty promises, Gwen.” He whispers the words against her ear, craving her closeness but also feeling burned by her presence all the sudden. “So please don’t.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until her soft fingers wipe at his cheek and keep his head close to hers. “I’m so sorry for hurting you, Blake. I’m so sorry for ruining us when we were just starting to become something.”

“You’re beautiful, Gwen. You’re what I envision when I think off kindness and happiness, I still think of you like that. I trust you, maybe more than I should, but that’s not the case for you and— “

“—I do trust you, Blake.” She interjects, her own eyes filling up. “You’re so important to me and you’re so amazing to everyone you meet. It never was about what I thought you were doing when I wasn’t around, it was about what you _didn’t_ do; I didn’t want to hold you back, I wanted you to live the life you wanted to live instead of just adjusting to mine.”

"You told me I messed up in Mexico." He recalls softly, the hurt in his voice prominent.

"I didn't know what to think." 

"You _know_ me." He retorts immediately.

"And look what you've been doing ever since we’ve split. Look at how you left me after making me-" She cuts herself off from saying the words but he hears them painfully clear regardless. "You hurt me too, you know? You made me feel cheap, something to just take control of and disregard later. Like he would."

_Like he would._

The words hit him like a ton of bricks, his eyes filling up instantly.

"Gwen, _I_..." He breathes, clearing his throat. "I never wanted to make you feel that way."

He keeps his gaze on her, her lip caught between her teeth. "Why didn't you stay?"

"You tell me you don't want me, but you let me do _that_. Then afterwards, you basically tell me it's a mistake and it should never have happened. I can't handle that type of rejection over and over again, Gwen. I left so I wouldn't have to wake up to you regretting me in the morning."

It's the most honest he's been with her in such a long time, it makes him feel physically sick. He's being _whiney, needy, insecure, pathetic_....He swallows roughly, trying to physically push down these negative words he's heard so much during his marriage. 

"I don't regret you, Blake." She says then, her hands damn near shaking but her voice steady. Then even steadier. "I want you."

“So what changed?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. _Everything_. I used to think this would be the best thing for the both of us, but if that’s true then….”

“Then what?”

In a move that completely surprises him, she leans forward into his chest, almost curling up into him. His hand comes to rest on her back almost involuntarily.

“Then why does it hurt so much?” She whispers into his chest. “The right thing shouldn’t feel like this; I don’t believe it would.”

His hand rubs circles along her back, all the while her words knock the wind out of him. He finds the strength somewhere to speak, but his words sound breathy and unsteady to him.

“How can I know you’re sure this time?”

She sniffs into his chest and he can’t believe how perfectly this woman fits there.

“You can’t.”

“Are you sure?”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “I am.”

“I need some time…. _fuck_.” He breathes, his hand coming up to rub over his mouth and chin. “I can’t make sense of anything right now.”

Suddenly aware of their surroundings, how they’re having this conversation against the wall of a party that’s thrown for them, he knows he should probably let her go and head back down, but his hand keeps her pressed against him and she makes no move to back away either. They’re obscenely intertwining as they try their hardest to be each other’s rock.

“I get it.” Her voice is small and unsure, so different from the strong and radiant woman he’s gotten to know. “I don’t expect you to take me back. I just needed you to know how I felt—the truth.”

There’s so much going on in his mind, no thought seems merely coherent. 

“We should probably head back down.”

He feels like an ass for not being able to give her a more articulate answer after laying it all on the line for him, but his mind feels like it only obtains scattered thoughts, nothing merely coherent lives there. He wants to keep her close to him as long as he can, but he knows people will come looking for them at some point and maybe some distance is what he needs to figure things out.

When she pulls back and agrees that they should attend back to the party, he can sense the hurt and fear in her voice; it’s almost enough to pull her back and soothe them all over with his hands, his lips, his words. But instead he lets her lead the way back downstairs, ignoring the way they’re both fighting back tears.


	8. You Know I’m Broken

The Voice finale went much like she thought it would. Jordan won the season, which every coach expected ever since his blind audition. There was a sense of relief and sadness that washed over her as the season came to an end. She’s not sure where Blake and her stand anymore, but even if they’d ask her to come back, she probably shouldn’t. It’s hard for her to watch so many chapters of her life close while so little seem to be opening up.  
   
Even if things clear up between her and Blake, there’s nothing she can do to ease the pain that comes from the feeling of rejection and replacement. She’s been barely hanging on ever since they broke things off, the thought of anyone else not even crossing her mind. For Blake, they were more than thoughts—he shared intimate moments that were once, briefly, reserved for her with so many women that weren’t her. As much as he’s free to do whatever he wants, it causes a flood of triggering memories that bring her right back to that broken, insecure state.  
   
It’s that hopeless sinking feeling that has her burning through a bottle of expensive wine, until the earth starts softly rocking beneath her. Her mind is drifting in and out like the tide and all she seems to be sure of is _him_.

She laid it all out on the line for him and he couldn’t reciprocate.  
   
She wants him and she thought he wanted her too. The way he takes claim of her body, loses control over his senses as he consumes her, tells her as much. The song tells her he wants her. She’s never been so close yet so far from a human being in her life.  
   
Maybe it’s the carelessness that the alcohol provides her with, or it’s the desperation mounting to an undeniable extent that makes the decision for her. She damn near staggers to her closet, snagging a pair of yoga pants from the hangers while throwing on an oversized hoodie to finish off her semi appropriate look. She’s not quite sure how much time she has before the Uber gets there, but she’s in a drunken hurry regardless. She somehow manages to remember her keys and wallet, shoving them in the jacket pocket before stumbling out of the front door. She decides to wait outside; the night air might actually do her some good.  
   
She’s not sure how Blake will react when she gets there, but she figures she’ll find out soon enough. It’s not until she’s in the car, dozing with her head towards the car’s window that she realizes the impact of her decision.  
   
She presses the home button of her phone—she didn’t even remember taking it with her—and realizes she’s about to crash his place at nearly two am.  
   
She spills out of the Uber mere minutes later, paying the driver and hustling through the brisk air until she’s face to face with his gate. There’s a hint of hesitation there suddenly as she waits for him to buzz her in. She ends up ringing twice before the gates open, but her drunken state doesn’t even allow her to recognize it.  
   
She’s nearing his front door when a confused and sleepy looking Blake walks towards her, his eyes filled with worry as he steadies her.  
   
“Gwen?” He asks softly and she winces at the sound of her name, but still lets herself walk into his chest, letting out the sob she’d been holding in ever since getting in the car.  
   
“ _How_ —how did you know….it was me?” She hiccups through her cries.  
   
She feels the vibration of his low chuckle as she’s still pressed against his chest. “I don’t really know anyone else who would decide to visit me at this hour.”

She’s sure she’s going crazy, because as soon as the words escape him, she feels anger overtake her whole being, pushing out of his grip forcefully.

“I shouldn’t be here.” She says through gritted teeth, not knowing whether she’s talking to him or herself.

“Gwen, you didn’t have to— “

“—You’re ignoring me.” She yells suddenly, her own voice causing her to flinch. “You kiss me and tell me you want me, but when I lay it all on the line for you, you say nothing. Silence, Blake. Radio. _Fucking_. Silence.”

The force of her words is jarring and she can tell Blake’s taken aback by it. He swallows a few times, seemingly to compose himself.

“That’s not what happened, Gwen.” He says calmly, his face betraying how worked up he’s getting though.

She huffs in annoyance. “It’s not? Why don’t you inform me then, Blake? Tell me.”

“Gwen, you’re drunk. Let’s get you inside…”

“Tell me, Blake. Stop bullshitting me around.”

A wave of nausea hits her all the sudden, causing her to stumble a little on her feet. Blake reaches out his hand to try and steady her, but she swats it away quickly.

“Gwen, Jesus Christ.” He pants in frustration, shaking his head. “You really want to have this conversation right now? You can barely stand on your feet.”

“It’s easy, Blake. You either want me or you don’t.” She spats, ignoring his previous words.

“It’s easy?” He repeats, eyes widening. “You walked away from me, Gwen. After being the most vulnerable, the most honest— _you_ left. You want me to fall at your feet because you decided I was finally worth the shot?”

“I wanted you. I’ve _always_ wanted you.”

She’s having difficulties with getting the words out and she’s not sure whether she’s yelling or crying, all she knows is that she’s stumbling again and barely catches herself from falling over.

“Gwen, come here.” Blake’s voice cuts through her drunken fury, his worry more apparent than his anger in this moment. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

When his hand reaches out for her once more, ignoring how she pulls away, the dam breaks. She uses both hands to push him backwards, the force of her hands pushing at his chest backing him up a few steps.

“I wanted you.” She repeats, before another firm push at his chest. He throws his hands up in a surrendering motion, trying to calm her down, but she can’t even register it. “I still want you. I don’t—why won’t you answer me?”

She’s crying now, all the while her hands are pushing and pulling at his chest. When her pushes become weak slaps, his hands catch her wrists, restraining her for the most part.

“Let go of me.”

“Gwen, you need to calm down.”

His hands don’t let go of her wrist and it only fuels her rage. She tries to twist out of his hold, but the alcohol has her too unsteady on her feet to succeed. Instead, she falters again and crashes into his chest fully, sobbing as she realizes her disadvantage.

“ _Answer me_.” She breathes into his chest, her anger subsiding as instantaneously as it came up—being nowhere near in control of her emotions.

“Shhhh.” He shushes her lowly, his large palms smoothing over her back as she buries her face into his neck as she shivers. “Let’s get you inside, okay?”

As much as she wants to protest, wants an answer right now, the shivers are getting increasingly worse and her body feels weak and heavy in his embrace. She gives into his request reluctantly, nodding slowly.   
   
He helps steady her as they walk inside,  as she immediately warms up a bit at entering his place; a place that once was so familiar and still manages to feel like home.  
   
He’s tapping on her leg, helping her out of her shoes and ushers her towards the couch next where he takes her jacket and hands her a thick blanket to get settled under. She’s feeling her temperature rise with each second, enjoying the way her body seems to melt into his furniture and belongings. Everything smells like Blake there and it’s the only thing that keeps her together momentarily.  
   
Blake shows up a few minutes later with some water, sitting down next to her without initiating any physical contact. She lowers her gaze, suddenly embarrassed by her intruding his place, the liquid courage quickly wearing off.  
   
“I don’t know why I’m here.” She whispers, her eyes still wet.  
   
Blake swallows but stays quiet otherwise. “It’s late.”  
   
“I know.” She nods, her hand reaching out for the glass of water in front of her. Her throat is burning and she’s not used to this amount of liquor in her system. “I didn’t know where else to go.”  
   
He chuckles a bit unhappily, and once again she’s hit with the feeling he doesn’t want her there. It’s not the weirdest thing to imagine, considering the time and the dramatics that just happened outside, but there’s still a deflated feeling that rises within her at the realization.  
   
“You should’ve stayed home, Gwen. Sleep it off. These hangovers are no joke.”  
   
There’s more worry and care in his voice than anything else, but the words don’t sit right with her. She wants more from him, despite knowing she doesn’t deserve any of it.  
   
“Can I just stay here?”  
   
Her voice is fragile and hoarse, her eyes cast down to her feet.  
   
She misses the way his eyebrow raises, just as she misses the gentle look that settles onto his features as he addresses her.  
   
“Ofcourse you can. “  
   
She finally looks up at him, his blue eyes looking tired but much more alive than they’ve been the last few weeks; she thinks that if she’d caught him at any other moment than the middle of the night, he would’ve looked more like his old self again.  
   
“I thought I could do it.” She murmurs, her fingers rubbing at her temple.  
   
“You thought you could do what?” Blake asks gently.  
   
“Drink my feelings away, just let it all go for once.” She replies shortly, annoyed at her own inability to do so.  
   
Blake shakes his head. “You shouldn’t want to do that, Gwen. Be glad that’s not something you’re good at.”  
   
“It works for you.”  
   
He flinches but doesn’t let his tone catch any of the hardness his features do.  
   
“And how much good has that done for me?” He raises his eyebrow again, waiting for Gwen to answer him.  
   
“It got you girls, didn’t it? Lots of them.”  
   
It’s something she doesn’t seem to get passed, the knowledge of him being intimate with so many that weren’t her, setting her off in a whole tailspin much like the ones she experienced in her last marriage.  
   
“Is that what you want?” Blake asks calmly. “Other guys?”  
   
He catches her lingering eyes and let his head fall slightly to one side.  
   
“You know I don’t.” She whispers.  
   
“Alcohol hasn’t done anything positive for me, Gwen. These girls—they weren’t anything positive for me either.”  
   
Her throat feels dry all the sudden, his admission nice to hear but her emotions also incredibly unstable. “I just want to forget about this mess, I want to stop feeling so unlovable.”  
   
Blake seems to hesitate for a moment before reaching out and brushing her hair back.  
   
“If there’s one thing you’re _not_ , it’s unlovable.”  
   
It’s like him looking her so directly in the eyes sets her off and before she knows it, words are stumbling out of her mouth before her brain can tell her to stop it.  
   
“You shouldn’t ever feel like that either, Blake. You don’t even need me; you’re so charming, so funny and smart—you know girls literally line up for you.”  
   
She realizes vaguely she’s jumping from one thought to the other; yelling at him one moment and complimenting him the next. He says something under his breath that she doesn’t catch in response, but before she can ask him to repeat himself, he stands up and motions for her to follow him off the couch.   

She does so without protest, but voices her panic quickly after. “What are you doing?”  
   
She recognizes the route to his bedroom all too well and has the audacity to feel disappointed as he leads her passed his room, towards the guest room.  
   
“You’re drunk.” He states softly, entering the room so he can hit the lights and walk towards the closet in the back. “There are some shirts in here you can use, so you can get comfortable.”  
   
Gwen’s still standing still in the doorway, looking at him as he speaks, but not yet setting foot in the room. Blake takes notice after a little while.  
   
“Are you not coming in?”  
   
She’s once again trying not to cry, the alcohol messing with her emotions even more as she feels the wetness pooling in the corner of her eyes.  
   
“Did you hear what I just said, Blake? I meant it.”  
   
“You’re drunk and emotional and everything you say to me now, you’ll regret in the morning.”  
   
She shakes her head frantically, her hand reaching out for his arm as she uses it both for stability and closeness. “I know what I’m saying, I’m not that drunk.”  
   
“You showed up at my house at 3 am, sobbing—trust me, you’re way passed sober.”  
   
“Can you just….” She breathes out dramatically, unsure about how to go from here. “…. Stay with me for a while?”  
   
He looks at her with confusion and sympathy written all over his face and she wants both emotions to take a hike, she wants him to just feel comfortable around her again.  
   
“I should let you sleep...”  
   
“You should keep me company.” She counters quickly, praying she sounded convincing enough.  
   
“Just get settled and I’ll be back to check up on you, okay?”  
   
It’s not totally what she wants, but she realizes even in her drunken state that she’s not gonna get more from him. He’s hurt and his walls are all the way up; he’s not letting his guard down around her and it’s all her fault. She can’t even cry about it, because at least he didn’t drive her straight back home, or worse—call an Uber to take her back. He’s letting her intrude, stay with him until the morning, which means she’ll see him tomorrow too. He’s giving her all he’s capable of giving her and she decides to be grateful—even when it’s not nearly enough.  
   
By the time he comes back to check on her, she’s changed into one of his large t-shirts and has the covers all the way up to her neck. The warm buzz from the many drinks she’d consumed tonight had made way for a chilly feeling that made her restless and cold, an impending headache already on the way.  
   
“Are you feeling okay?” Blake asks sweetly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, dipping the matrass slightly.  
   
She knows he’s being polite and doesn’t play into his caring nature.  
   
“ _Yeah_.” She whispers through gritted teeth, biting back grunts of discomfort as her headache gets distinctively worse. “Thanks, Blake.”  
   
“Trust me, you’ll feel much better after some sleep.”  
   
She nods but doesn’t dare to speak, too much emotion bottling up inside of her throat and chest.  
   
“I know it might not look like it, but I’m glad you’re here Gwen.” His eyes are locking with hers, his lips turned into a small smile. “I just wish under different circumstances.”  
   
She wasn’t prepared for how these words would make her feel, as a few tears find solace on his bedsheets. She swallows down the huge lump in her throat while wiping hastily at her eyes.  
   
“I just miss you.” She whispers through another sob. “I miss you so much, all the time.”  
   
“Gwen…” He says her name so gently, so softly, it almost silences her completely. “We shouldn’t talk about any of this right now.”  
   
“I know you think I’m too drunk, Blake, but I know what I’m saying. I know what I want.”  
   
She watches his jaw clench under her stare and senses the moment his control starts slipping a little bit.  
   
“Forgive me for finding that a little hard to believe still.”  
   
She’s not too surprised at the jab, even understands it, but there’s no way to make it feel any less painful.  
   
“I want to prove it to you.” She replies, her breathing loud as her heartbeat rages too fast for her to keep up.  
   
“Is that why you’re here?” He asks nonchalantly.  
   
“I’m here because I was sad and you usually make me feel better. And…I missed you.”  
   
“ _Gwen_.”

“I know you think I just led you on and then when things got tough, I bailed on you—on us. I get why you think that, but every single decision I’ve made, I made with the both of us in mind. I can’t live with the thought of holding you back, Blake; you gave me too much to ever let that happen. I thought in the end, I’d do you a favour. I’m messed up and have too much baggage, and I was willing to make it all your problem. If I allowed myself to be truly selfish, I would never leave your side, I’d be around you all the time cause you’re the only thing in my life that constantly makes me feel good.”  
   
Her word vomit stuns them both, her eyes widening as she realizes everything she just revealed. She closes her eyes momentarily, trying to get rid of all the anxiety and panic that floods her being.  
   
She has to open her eyes when she feels a gentle hand caress the side of her face, just to make sure she’s not imagining things.  
   
“I don’t think you’re selfish—I never thought you were selfish. I just think you’re scared, much worse than you even admit to yourself.”  
   
“I don’t want to be.” She whispers shakily.  
   
“I know.” His hand moves to tuck a strand of lose hair behind her ear. “Tell you what, we’ll talk about this more tomorrow. I’m not mad at you, I just want to you to get some sleep. Can you do that?”  
   
Her skin is buzzing and her mind is all over the place, but she somehow manages to nod and not pull him back on the bed when he stands up and creates distance. In the back of her mind, she realizes it’s much more beneficial and definitely a lot wiser to have this conversation tomorrow, when the alcohol is officially no longer comprising her comprehension and self-control. She still bites her lip to keep from calling out for him and closes her eyes before she has to witness him leaving.  
   
*  
   
Her eyes take their time opening, adjusting to the gentle light skimming through the grey curtains, illuminating the room just enough to take in some details. The room is very much simple as it’s a little abandoned; it becomes clear it’s only functional. The walls aren’t painted, but then again, most people wouldn’t paint a rental. She realizes that despite having been over to his place numerous times, she’s never spent the night in the guest room—and that thought alone is kind of depressing.  
   
Aside from the lack of decoration in the room, it’s quite modern looking. It’s almost uncomfortably large; she scans the place for even a little bit of a personal touch and eventually spots one picture of his mother and who she suspects to be his brother on a side table across from the bed, and she wonders why he decided to place that frame in _this_ room? Did he spent _that_ much time in here before his marriage crumbled?  
   
Putting his room through her own personal inspection has certainly woken her up a bit, her fingers rubbing at the space between her eyebrows. She feels the remnants of a hangover but it’s not nearly as bad as she thought it would be. Her legs feel a bit wobbly regardless as she steps out of the queen-sized bed, her legs immediately covering with goosebumps as she realizes she’s only wearing Blake’s shirt.  
   
She feels weird about invading his space like this, especially considering he didn’t invite her over, but she takes it upon herself to open his closet and go through some of his hangers, but comes up short. Out of the corner of her eye she spots an item so familiar she crouches down onto her knees and pushes the rest of the contents aside. Her eyes fall onto one of her own leggings; she hadn’t even noticed she missed them but she remembers exquisitely when she’d worn them.  
   
She also remembers it getting scattered somewhere along his bedroom—not _here_. There’s a spark of hope that courses through her at the idea of him keeping it all this time; he didn’t throw it out, or give it back. He also didn’t keep it in his own room, instead chucked it in the back of his closet in the guest room.  
   
She feels tears springing to her eyes and swallows once, roughly.  
   
Putting on her own leggings while keeping on his shirt that comes to far over her knees will suffice for now, as she pushes the door open and heads downstairs. She’s not even halfway there when she hears rumblings in the kitchen already, making his presence known. She’s a pretty early bird too, her kids not leaving her with much choice, but she was surprised to learn Blake got up early too—enjoying the morning hours before the chaos of the city would erupt. She smiles to herself as the slightest sense of familiarity; no matter how bad they get, there are some things she just knows about him.  
   
She clears her throat as she approaches the kitchen era, making sure not to startle him. He closes the open kitchen cabinet before turning on his heel to face her.  
   
He keeps his gaze so intensely locked on her she fidgets a little, but she never makes a move to break it. She bites her bottom lip, suddenly unable to come up with anything to say. She depends on his ability to break the silence anytime soon, but he also seems to be running low on vocabulary. Somewhere during their silent gaze, she finds herself walking closer to him, not stopping until she’s so close she’s sure he can smell her lavender scent.  
   
“Morning.” She whispers softly, her breathing rapid as she feels incredibly small and vulnerable standing in front of his much taller frame, still wearing his shirt.  
   
He smiles at her and she’s not sure why she’s so surprised by that—but she is.  
   
“Morning.” He drawls.  
   
It’s been so long since she’s been with him in the morning, she almost forgot how much thicker his accent would get when he’d just woken up.  
   
“I found these.” She says softly, tugging at the fabric of her leggings quickly, trying to find anything to say.  
   
He nods once. “I didn’t know what to do with them, honestly. I thought maybe you’d want them back some day.”  
   
“Thanks for not throwing them out.” She smiles, trying to sound playful but ending up sounding incredibly emotional.  
   
“I wouldn’t do that. If I wanted them gone, I’d just give ‘em back to ya.”  
   
She’d missed being on the receiving end of his everlasting kindness, loving the way he’d speak gentle words to her without even realizing. She’d only ever known narcissism and rejection before, Blake’s kindness was an unfamiliar sense of smoothness; something so incredibly sweet she felt intimidated by it.

Broken flashbacks to last night suddenly overwhelm her; the image of her hands pushing at Blake before breaking down in his arms, causing her to flush red and her stomach to drop.  
   
“Blake, I’m really sorry…. about everything.”  
   
She hates how empty the words sound now, how none of it matters when it’s just a little too late. Still, there’s nothing else she can say; there’s nothing she means more either.  
   
“Believe it or not, I’ve had worse encounters with drunk people.” He smiles, yet it doesn’t reach far enough for his dimples to pop out.  
   
“I didn’t just mean last night….”  
   
“I know.” Blake finishes for her. “I know what you meant.”  
   
She gives him a small smirk, only to mask the hurt that burns her chest and throat.

“You just don’t accept my apology.”  
   
“You’re in my house, yet I can’t have you. You’re coming over in the middle of the night, but you’re not with me. You say you love me in a song, but you also lied to me. You see how everything regarding you just makes very little sense?”  
   
There’s no real venom behind his words, but she flinches nonetheless. Their proximity is now almost nauseating, but she stands her ground.  
   
“I didn’t lie to you….”

“You said you trusted me.”  
   
She doesn’t even register her next move, as it comes so natural to her she doesn’t have enough time to stop herself. Her hand falls onto his hip, her eyes following the movements of her fingers making circles right above his waistband.  
   
“I do.” She whispers. “I always have, I was just scared.”  
   
He stares at her like he’s anything but impressed, but to her surprise doesn’t back away from her touch.  
   
“Just tell me, is there anything I can do to make it up to you or am I trying to water something that’s already dead?”  
   
She doesn’t remember a time where she’s ever been more upfront about her feelings ever, the way he’s looking at her in return making her feel more brazen than she is.  
   
“You think I would’ve let you crash here after all that if things were dead between us?”  
   
_“Blake, you’re— “_  
   
“Things aren’t dead, Gwen.”  
   
The force in which he claims her lips next backs them both into the kitchen table, Gwen’s hands flying up to its edges to find some stability. She’s too lost in the feeling of his lips on her again, his hands so easily feeling her up, making her feel everything, that she forgets about how she came here to talk.  
   
She hisses as he thrusts his tongue into her mouth, her hands flying to the back of his head. She’s caught between a weird limbo of needing more and simultaneously less. The desperation and force in which he takes her hurts more than just her back pressing into the table. She can’t imagine the moment passing though, as she pushes him more firmly into her, savouring the sweet gasp that leaves his lips at the pleasurable friction.  
   
Despite the sounds emerging from him, it was her losing all oxygen as he kissed it out of her lungs. It’s not until he lifts her up and walks her towards the couch, that she has time to take in his face—as it’s not plastered to hers.  
   
She wants to say something, but the way he gently lowers her onto the cushions and captures her lips again has her swallowing her words. Her fingers skim through his wild curls, while he positions himself between her spread legs. One of his hands traces the side of her face, while he places soft kisses down the nape of her neck, up to her cheek, until he stills altogether. His face rests on her shoulder as she finally feels wetness gathering onto the crook of her neck, and it takes her only a few seconds to realize he’s crying.  
   
There are no dramatic sobs, they’re more like broken off shudders that end with a body tremble. She doesn’t shush him, she doesn’t utter any words at all, she just holds him close to her body, her free hand covering his cheek.  
   
“I love you.”

The words don’t just escape her, she doesn’t just say them because she thinks he needs to hear them; they’re what she’s been meaning to say ever since he came back from Mexico. “I think a part of me has loved you from the minute I met you.”  
   
His trembling frame suddenly lifts his head from her shoulder, and flicks his eyes up to meet hers.  
   
“I don’t want you to say that because I just lost it.”  
   
She shakes her head. “I’m not. I’m _in_ love with you, Blake.”  
   
His breathing is still unsteady, yet his gaze doesn’t lower from hers. She wants to kiss him again, but she needs to make sure that when he goes for her lips this time, he knows her exact feelings.  
   
“I know how badly I hurt you and I have to live with that, and I’m so sorry. I didn’t lie to you when I said I broke my own heart just as badly by letting fear push me away from you. All these months without you in my life like that…. most days I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”  
   
“I can’t….” He shakes his head like he’s trying to scramble his thoughts back in order. “You can’t change your mind again. Gwen, I wouldn’t be able to handle that.”  
   
Now her own eyes are unable to keep the moisture in, tears falling down her cheeks and some sticking to her lashes.  
   
“I won’t.”  
   
She wants to say more, but the way her throat constricts painfully has her thinking twice. Luckily for her, Blake seems to have words of his own he needs to speak. He uses his strength to flip them over, as she’s now lying mostly on top of him—her hands against his chest keeping them from being fully collided.  
   
“I believe you.”  
   
The words knock the wind out of her, and it isn’t until Blake’s thumb starts tracing her spine that she relaxes a little bit.  
   
“Y-you do?”  
   
“I’ve been shitty to you, I know that. I thought by pretending to hate you, I could somehow get over you, forget you—but I don’t think I ever could. I don’t think I ever truly _want_ to.”  
   
She breathes loudly, her head lowering so her forehead rests against his.  
   
“I made you do all of that.”  
   
“No you didn’t.” Blake’s quick to cut her off, and she’s momentarily thrown off by it. “You just make me feel so goddamn much, Gwen. You hurt me, but I had no right to do some of the things I said—some of the things I did.”  
   
She knows he’s referring to the numerous girls and the notorious night in which he let her come pick him up only to be stood up. She squeezes her eyes tightly against the memories.  
   
“I’m sorry I hurt you, Gwen.”  
   
She opens her eyes again, shaking her head softly.  
   
“Can we start over?” She whispers.  
   
His hand draws back into her hair, tangling in the strands just enough to move her face down, his teeth softly nibbling at her bottom lip. “Please?”  
   
She chuckles through another batch of tears, allowing Blake to kiss them all away, until his hand keeps her from leaning in for another kiss.  
   
She frowns as a bit of panic rushes through her. “Is something wrong? Do you not want this?”  
   
“I love you too.”  
   
She sucks in a breath. “Blake…”  
   
“I just wanted to say it back before we go any further.”  
   
She meets his gaze with pleading eyes, pleading with him to forgive her, pleading with him to never forget how much he loves her, and pleading with him to hold her close for hours as he shows her body just how much he’s missed her.  
   
Luckily for her, he seems to have the same idea. In between kisses, clothes are shed and tossed aside, as Blake shifts Gwen back underneath him—her impatient hands tugging at his hips to speed things along.  
   
“I need it. _Now_.” She pants breathlessly already.  
   
Their heavy make-out from earlier and seemingly speaking things out, sufficed as enough foreplay as Blake starts softly pushing inside of her. His eyes widen as he realizes the glide goes easier than expected and she grins knowingly.  
   
When he’s waited long enough to let her get adjusted, she bucks up at him and pleads with him once more to take her. He does so without hesitation, his body keeping her legs apart as he thrusts into her hard.  
   
“Fuck, yes.” She cries, her own sounds mixing with his pleasurable groans. “Harder.”  
   
It’s like her desperation for this man comes to an unrecognizable high and she just needs more of everything; more closeness, more feeling, more _him_.  
   
Blake groans loudly as their rhythm picks up more speed, her hands flying to his shoulders as she holds on for dear life, trying not to let the moment end too soon.  
   
He seems to have other ideas.  
   
“Don’t hold back, baby. We’ll get to do this a million times over.”  
   
The lowly-whispered words in her ear have her control slipping drastically, her head falling back onto the couch as he pounds into her relentlessly.  
   
“Oh god.” She whimpers, her muscles tightening suddenly as he took everything she had to give. She feels herself shaking and in the back of her mind registers the sounds coming out of her mouth, but the amount of pleasure she experiences erases any sort of embarrassment she could possibly have about that. He doesn’t stop his pumping until he reaches his own climax with a strangled groan, riding it out until he slumps down on top of her.  
   
There’s so much she wants to say, but the feeling of his weight pressed securely down on top of her, while both coming down from their highs, beats anything she could possibly put into words—so instead she swallows them all and decides to express her gratitude later. For now, she just relaxes into his hold and silently thanks God for bringing this man back to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few more insecurities to work through in the next chapter, but for the most part, this is where the real bad angst ends. Again, thank you so much for reading.


	9. So Into You

He wakes up slowly, his eyes adjusting to the light by blinking them open and shut a few times. He’s not sure how or when they got into bed last night, but his arm is securely draped across her body. She’s snuggled up against his chest to the point where her soft breathes hit his chest rhythmically. It was daunting him how much her closeness and intimacy affected him now—after all they’ve been through.

Yesterday had been a pretty quiet day, with Gwen getting over her hangover and neither one feeling like leaving the house or each other. He wasn’t granted with those days much; where all responsibility would fade away and he just gets to be alone with his thoughts and the gentle hum of street noise. When Gwen snuggled up against him on the couch after two rounds of lovemaking, staying there for hours while watching TV and occasionally getting up for something to drink, he realized that it’s all he needs for his days to count.

Waking up with her— _to_ _her_ —is different though. There’s something poetic about the way she’ll disregard any space; all she cares for is the warmth of his skin and safety of his proximity. Selfishly, he wants to stay like this for the rest of the day, but Gwen already wasted away a full day with him doing close to nothing. He’s nowhere near confident he’ll be granted with one of those again today.

Deciding to at least control the way their morning goes, he gently pulls his arm away from her body, waiting until her limbs are comfortably sprayed across the matrass. She stirs a little bit when he moves away and his heart constricts at the sight. Putting on his boxers and a lose black t-shirt, he makes his way downstairs to the coffee machine.

Despite his gut feeling telling him otherwise, he can’t help but hope she’ll stay. There’s been enough distance between them to last a while, he doesn’t want to say goodbye to her even if it’s just for a few days. The hot brown liquid spills into the coffee muck and his eyes focus on the buzzing sound coming from the machine. He remembers the second time she stayed over at his place, her eyes widening as he’d remembered the simple fact of how she liked her coffee. His mouth fills with a bitter taste as he imagines how bad things must’ve been with her ex-husband for her to get so stunned about something as small as that.

While making his way back into his room, he’s met with her open eyes staring at him gently. Her body is rolled on her side, her cheek pressing into the pillow.

“Good morning.”

He smiles as he crosses the room with two coffee mucks in is hand, setting them both down on the nightstand.

The mattress dips as he lets his body collide with the white duvet, crawling underneath them again as Gwen returns to that place beneath his arm, pressing her chest against his side.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

“I don’t like waking up like that.” She says softly, her hands playing with the short hairs on his chest.

He looks at her a bit shocked, his face ridden with confusion. “You don’t like waking up how?”

“Alone.” She answers quietly, a soft smile splayed across her lips. “Without you keeping me warm.”

His hardened expression falls immediately, making way for a much happier one. His arm tightens around her back as he places a soft kiss on the top of her head.

“I don’t like moving away from you either.” He admits quietly, pulling back so he can meet her eyes. “I made you some coffee; two sugars, no milk.”

Her little giggle makes him happier than it probably should. “That’s right, cowboy.”

He’s been thinking about what he’s about to say ever since he’d woken up, the thought of Gwen leaving today a beyond sour one. He fidgets a little behind her before finally spewing it out.

“What do you think about staying with me for another day? Maybe drive around a bit, go out for dinner tonight?”

She tenses a little in his arms, her eyes looking up at him as if hearing those words were the last thing she expected to hear.

“Are you sure?” She almost whispers. “Those are very public plans; it might be hard denying any involvement together.”

He shrugs, not really seeing the appeal in denying it anyways.

“I don’t really care. We don’t owe anyone an explanation, we can just hang out.”

“You wanna spend _another_ day together?”

Her questions leave him with very little insight, but an impossible amount of question marks. He shifts to sit up a bit more, his hand lifting her chin.

“Yeah. I don’t want to pressure you, but I’ve missed just getting to hang out with you.”

Her lips curve up into a small smile, her hand landing on his arm to keep the physical contact going. “I missed that too.”

Her words sound sweet and sincere, but there’s a hint of hesitation he picks up on.

“But...?”

“I just didn’t know what you wanted to do right now. Like, I don’t want to be too clingy or demand up all your time just because we slept together again.”

Her admission is spoken quietly, but her insecurity-ridden words hit him hard.

“ _Gwen_ ….”

“I just don’t want to make the same mistakes as before, I guess.” She interrupts. “If you need some space or…. I don’t know—what would you _usually_ do?”

He looks at her with confusion before she reaches over him to grab the coffee on the nightstand, keeping it steady between both hands. He reads the moment as her trying to check out of the conversation, but he won’t let her.

“Gwen, hey. Tell me what you mean with that?”

She shakes her head, blowing into the hot muck between her hands. “It’s stupid, just don’t mind me. I’d love to spend the day with you, Blake.”

He keeps his gaze on her, not even letting up when she starts shifting uncomfortably. His arm makes sure that she stays close, but internally she seems to be looking for all ways to get out of this one.

“We gotta start again from zero, I get that. If you need some more time or space, or if you had some other plans, all you gotta do is say the words.”

He tries to fish at whatever it could be that’s on her mind, but he’s coming up empty. Gwen takes another sip of her coffee, biting her lip as he watches her eyes get teary.

“Come on, Gwen. You gotta help me out here.”

“I just don’t want to scare you away.” She says in a whisper, her lips quickly nipping at the rim of her muck again. “I know I’m not like the other girls you’ve been with and it’s one thing to have to compete with what you know is out there, but it’s a whole other thing to compete with what you’ve already had.”

Her words take him aback, his mind unable to come up with a response. He was an idiot to think his actions wouldn’t have a longer lasting effect on her. He rubs his hand over his mouth, lingering there for a second as he looks at her.

“Blake, I’m sorry. I told you it was stupid. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

She must’ve mistaken his silence for anger, and once again he’s mentally kicking himself. This time, his hand takes the cup out of her hands as he places it back on the nightstand, nudging her to come straddle him.

“Blake?” She asks hesitantly as his hands grab at her hips.

“Just come here.” He replies sweetly, waiting for her to settle onto his lap, her eyes boring into his.

“These girls—I never liked them, Gwen. It was never about liking them, or wanting to spend time with them the next day. It was just about….” He shakes his head, recalling his actions to her not only embarrassing but also hurtful. “I felt angry and lonely, numb sometimes even. I wanted to feel something with someone who meant nothing to me. There was never any competition.”

The words feel heavy as he speaks them, but he understands the importance. That only gets intensified when Gwen struggles to meet his eyes, her insecurities seemingly engulfing her completely. He waits anxiously for an answer, but she stays mute on top of him.

“Baby.” He nudges her gently, finally causing her to look up at him with teary eyes. “I’m sorry for giving you the wrong idea. I should’ve known better.”

She shakes her head then, once. “I pushed you away.”

“And I proved your point by doing what you thought I wanted to do all along.”

He can’t believe how long it took him to see it. Deep down he wonders if he just wasn’t aware or if anger made him not care. Either way, regret presses heavy against his chest.

“I know you were hurt. I made you feel like I didn’t trust you and then got upset when you started moving on. I don’t mean to be like this, Blake. I just don’t want to be replaced when you realize they gave you something I can’t.”

It’s like the words leaving her mouth was the only thing she needed to fall apart. Instead of clinging to him like she usually would when she got emotional, she attempts to pull away from him as she shields her face from him.

“Baby, I messed up. You don’t have to hide that from me.”

His hands try to pull her back into him, but she fights his grasp enough for him to let go. She abruptly stands up from the bed, her broken breaths filling the room. There’s nothing he wants more than to approach her, but he’s not sure what she needs.

“I know you’re nothing like _him_.” She forces out, her back turned to him as she talks. “I know you’d never treat me that way.”

Her words smooth a bit of the distress in his throat, but there’s nothing that eases the pain of seeing her like this. He’s well-aware of her insecurities and fragile state, but he’s never seen it in action quite like this—not since she ran from him.

“I feel like the more time I spent with you right now, the more you’ll start missing what you had. I know you don’t owe me anything, if anything, I owe _you_ —but I’m just scared it’ll break me when you stop wanting me.”

Her confession not only stuns, but it breaks his heart more than anything else. He hates the distance she’s created, wanting nothing more but to hold her, stabilize her. When her exterior starts to seriously crack as sobs wreck through her, he pulls back the covers before trying to gently coax her back.

“Gwen, please come here.”

She shakes her head, still not turning around, her hands now protectively coming around her chest. He watches her small frame shake, fighting back tears himself.

“I love you, Gwen.” His voice is strong, but the vulnerability is blinding. “There’s nothing I could possibly miss about the time where you weren’t with me. I _need_ you.”

Throughout his little speech, he’d been carrying himself to where she’s standing, slowly but surely letting his arms come around her midriff. She makes one move to create some distance, but when he moves with her she gives up, letting her back sink into his chest.

“Look at me.”

“I’m gonna fall apart if I do.”

“That’s okay. I know you’re upset—you can let it out.”

That’s what gets her to finally turn around in his arms, her chest pressed against his. His arms wrap around her lower back, his gaze locking with hers gently.

“We’re both insecure. We both have scars from our previous relationships and I stupidly opened all of yours. I’m so sorry, baby.”

Her head buries in his chest, her hands gripping at his shirt as she lets herself fall apart. The force of her little body leaning into him makes him falter a bit, taking a step back before steadying himself. He thinks about moving them towards the bed, but not wanting to rush her like he’s sure she’s been rushed before, he stands still.

He presses a few kisses in her hair, his hand rubbing slowly along her back to sooth her. She’s still sniffling against his chest, clinging tightly to him as if she wouldn’t be able to stand without him. It’s not until her breath keeps catching and her sobs turn into breathy gasps, that he realizes something else is going on.

“Gwen, you gotta breathe baby.”

He says the words softly, but the tone indicates a bit of authority, needing her to listen.

“B-Blake.” She stutters through her sobs, her hands holding on to him now increasing their shakiness. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can.” He retorts, pulling away enough to lift her face with his fingers. “Look at me.”

Her breath continues to catch in the back of her throat, but she’s making an effort to maintain eye-contact. He wishes he could say or do something to instantly ease her anxiety, but he knows this must be something she’s been bottling up ever since they parted ways, her panic only now mounting to where she can’t hold it in any longer.

His hands cup her face gently. “Just take another deep breath for me, sweetheart.”

It’s the first time since he’d started to try and coax her through that she’s actually able to take a deep breath in without it catching. He tells her the same thing over and over again, trying not to freak out when she falters and caves back into erratic breathing. He manages at a smile when she breathes in once, steadily.

“That’s right Gwen, you’re doing just fine.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Blake….” He can hear the panic in her voice rising again and quickly shuts it down.

“Shhhh, don’t apologize to me. Don’t ever apologize for feeling things.”

He doesn’t want to know how many times she’s had to apologize for her feelings before, how many times she was made to feel crazy about her emotions, but the way she just started to address him tells him all he needs to know.

“I just totally freaked out on you.” She says in a tired whisper, her hands now seeking stability on his upper arms.

“You’ve gone through so much, there’s a lot of trauma there, Gwen. No one’s expecting you to never feel the effects of that.”

He can physically see the tension sliding off her slowly, her breathing getting steadier. Once he’s sure she’s not on the brink of another panic attack anymore, he nudges her gently.

“Let’s just lay down for a hot minute.”

He doesn’t wait for her verbal agreement, just slowly starts walking her back towards the bed, carefully draping the covers over her body as she sinks into the matrass. It’s not until he sees her back in bed, remotely relaxed underneath his sheets that he can release a breath of relief himself—not realizing how anxious he’s been throughout this whole ordeal.

When he crawls back in bed besides her, his own tension slowly decreases. When she turns around to face him and pushes herself against him, much like how they were before she panicked, he relaxes completely.

“Can you hold me?” She whispers like she’s unsure if she can ask.

“Baby, ofcourse. There’s nothing I’d rather do.”

The moment these words escape him, her hand moves around his middle. It was crazy how they were able to mould into each other, sharing their body heat as easily as she shared her heart. He can’t imagine ever being this close to another person, emotionally and spiritually intertwining with her.

“Do you still want to spend the day with me?” She asks softly, her voice picking up a little bit more strength.

He smiles at the sound of it. “If you’re still up for it, yeah, definitely.”

She nods, her head lifting from his chest to look at him. “I love you.”

It’s weird how they can say that now, the words still feeling surreal. He smiles widely, his arms tightening around her.

“I love you too, baby.”

*

“So…. this was?” He asks still a bit stunned, his eyes never once leaving the screen, even after the video had ended for a few minutes.

“Underneath it all.” She says patiently, her eyes looking at him full of anticipation.

“Jesus Gwen, you do know you’re like smoking hot, right?”

A sceptical expression falls on Gwen’s face, her tempting lips turning into a small pout as she pretends to think it over.

“You think so?”

He knows what she’s doing; she’s pushing all his buttons, hoping he’ll react and take her back to bed, but he’s not ready to do that yet. She’s been showing him all the videos he still hadn’t seen—he’d taken it upon himself to YouTube a bunch of her performances and music videos, but he couldn’t believe how much he still had to catch up on. He was determined to do so today.

“Yeah.” He answers eventually, smirking. “Plus, the song is badass.”

Her bashful grin grows into a full- blown smile at the compliment of the song; he knows the most important thing to her is to feel validated as a songwriter and musician. He also knows she’s mastered the art of downplaying herself, writing off most of her success as luck instead of sheer talent.

“Thank you. It might be one of my favorite song’s I’ve ever written.”

“It’s crazy, Gwen.” He says directly at her, witnessing her small frown. “Your talent, I mean.”

He can sense it happening before it actually does, her face scrunching up before dismissing his compliment.

“It’s not like the best song ever, but it was just fun getting inspired by so many different things and writing something so honest, you know?”

He shakes his head, his hand reaching out for hers as he drags it along his lips, placing a soft kiss on her knuckles.

“I think songs like that are exactly what’s missing in today’s music.” His words cause her to curl up further against his side, one of her legs resting under the other. “And for the record, I _do_ think it’s the best song ever.”

She giggles and then softly slaps his shoulder.

“Ok, ok, cowboy—next song now.”

He chuckles at her childlike excitement, letting his eyes cast down to the device in his hands. Scrolling through most of her discography on YouTube is just another reminder of her icon stat, the realization sometimes hitting him hard.

“What about ‘Hey Baby’?” She asks before pointing to the screen.

“Seen that one already.”

“You have?”

He nods proudly, leaning back to kiss her cheek. “Ofcourse. You think I didn’t stalk you even a little bit when we first started hanging out?”

She smirks. “Good to know I wasn’t the only one doing all the stalking.”

His hand lazily rubs along her thigh, her head leaning on his shoulder suddenly tells him she doesn’t mind the closeness. His other hand is still scrolling down his phone.

“Don’t Speak?”

“Now you’re just insulting me, pretty girl.”

She laughs at that, and God, if it isn’t the prettiest sound. There’s so much he’s missed about her, but aside from the obvious things, it was her laugh he missed the most.

“I’m sorry. Why don’t you just pick out the videos and I just sit back and watch.”

It still baffles him how easy it is for them to just sit with each other; not once does he feel the need to hurry up, initiate some distance between their bodies, not even to say anything—Gwen is okay with just spending time with him and he finds himself near tears when he remembers how he’d almost lost that forever.

He smiles when he feels her completely melt against him, her eyes following his movements on the screen, keeping her promise as she watches in silence. He eventually settles on The Sweet Escape, which quickly gets followed up by Luxurious, only for Gwen to accidently falter as she tells him to look up “Trapped in A Box”.

“It’s just so _me_.” She says excitedly, as if he needed any more coaxing to watch the damn video. He’s pretty sure he’ll watch anything she’s in.

As simple as the act of looking up her videos is, there’s an intimacy about her showing him these snapshots of her life, sharing more than just her gorgeous self and beautiful voice. By the end of it, he feels closer to her than ever before, his mind also wired from all the different emotions these videos brought out of him.

“You know…. I’ve been thinking.” Gwen starts lowly, turning into him as she smiles mischievously.

“Yeah?” He asks equally as hooded, eyes darkening as he recognizes her mood.

“Yeah.” She affirms, making a move to straddle him. “I’ve been thinking about how we’ve been sitting here long enough and I think you should take me upstairs.”

His finger strokes her cheek, trying his hardest not to let her get the upper hand in this game she’s starting.

“Hmmm, but what about our plans to go outside?” He teases.

“We will.” She says as she plants a few kisses along his jaw and the corner of his lips. “Tonight. For dinner.”

“There are still a bunch of hours between then and now.” Blake says breathy, the deliberate kisses she scatters along his face having its desired effect.

“ _Exactly_.”

When her hand reaches down to his belt buckle, cupping his growing erection with her palm, all playfulness flies out of the window. Fuck it, he’ll be in control another time.

She squeals when he picks her up, loving how she immediately responds by hooking her legs around his waist. She bites her lip suggestively, indicating she wants a kiss. He grans her silent request immediately, but must pull back a little when he walks up the stairs with her, the force of her kisses enough to make him weak.

The moment her back collides with the bed, he’s hovering on top of her, following her lips down with a quickness he only possesses in bed. They’re still fully clothed as her hands tug at his curls to keep him close, her hips grinding into him.

“Fuck Gwen, I need to be inside of you.”

As controlled as he was on the couch, as impatient he is when he finally gets her in bed, the thought of not making love to this woman in the next minute a horrible one.

“Then get inside me, cowboy.” She says it with such casualty it elicits a grunt from his mouth, nibbling softly on her ear before patting her thigh.

“Take it off.”

She obliges in a quick movement, disregarding her clothes and his, until he’s laying fully naked on top of her. Her smile is bright and knowing, her body continuing to buck up at him.

“Is there something you want, darlin’?” He breathes hotly in her ear, tugging at her earlobe with his teeth.

Too deep in concentration, he’s unable to keep her from flipping them over, now finding his body underneath Gwen’s—her smile one of proud satisfaction.

“If _this_ is any indication….” She starts slowly, rocking her ass back into his groan, brushing his hardness. “I’d say the same thing you want.”

He grunts in frustration, as she turns the tables on him so quickly, so easily.

“Gwen, please.”

Luckily for him, she’s just as desperate and doesn’t make him wait long. She rises up unto her knees as she positions him at her center, sinking down slowly. He groans as he’s completely seated inside of her, his hands itching to grab her hips to get her to move.

“Ah-ah.” She smiles disapprovingly, swatting his hands away only to follow them down herself and press them into the pillow. “I decide when.”

He wants to yell, or beg, anything to get her to fucking move, but this dominant side of Gwen wasn’t one he’s gotten to see much of yet—so he won’t be rushing it. He assumes she adjusted to him inside her as she gently starts moving, riding him in a deliberate pace.

“God, Gwen, more.” He pants, not being able to use his hands to guide her movements literally torture.

“Not yet.” She breathes, her hips moving into him deeply.

He closes his eyes, anything to take focus away from the fact that he’s never been this turned on in his life, or the fact that he’s two seconds away from exploding if he doesn’t find some self-control quickly.

Her squeeze of his hand is what gets him to open his eyes again.

“Is there something you want, cowboy?”

He recognizes the words he used to tease her earlier and she grins knowingly, enjoying the control she has over him in this moment.

He doesn’t grant her question with a verbal response, instead he does the one thing he _can_ do to influence her movements; his hips push off the matrass slightly, thrusting up into her unexpectedly. The gasp that escapes her lips is almost as sweet as the moment her composure falters and she crashes into him. Her hands are still holding his down onto the pillow, but at least he has her naked chest now pressing against his and her mouth releasing hot breathes against the crook of his neck.

The movement of her hips never stop and he’s once again on the brink of letting go, knowing that once he gets to properly touch her, it’s over.

“Gwen, baby…my hands.” He tries again, pushing against her hold a little bit, but not enough to break free.

“No.” She pants, her own breathing now erratic as she crashes towards her own release. “Just a little bit more.”

“Shit Gwen, you’re killing me.”

He’s not sure how he’s been able to hold out for as long as he has, but her hot voice combined with the perfection of being inside her so deeply has him damn near delirious. The only thing that keeps him from finishing now, is wanting to get her there first.

He notices the stutter of her body on top of him and her broken breathes coming out in short spurts. He urges her on with another thrust of his own, his voice speaking lowly and directly in her ear.

“You’re close, Gwen. I can feel it.” He waits for the moment she looks up at him and motions for her to lean down. Her kiss is mostly breath as she pulls away and tugs at his bottom lip momentarily, unable to lean in for another. It’s when she gasps against his mouth, that he knows that he’s got her. “Come for me.”

She shakes her head as she tries to fight it, prolong what they’re doing, but her body seems to be working against her.

“Oh fuck.” She moans loudly, her nails digging into his shoulder.

“There you go, baby.”

The words have barely left his lips as her body starts shaking uncontrollably, her walls closing around him as she shudders out her orgasm against his shoulder.

Witnessing her falling apart like that on top of him is all he needs to feel his release coming, a loud groan escaping the back of his throat when she _finally_ releases his hands. He’s quick to place them on her hips, forcing her to ride her own orgasm out while coaxing the beginning of his.

“You feel so damn good, baby.” He whispers hoarsely as she lets him control their movements now, her own body slumped down against him. It takes two more thrusts for him to shoot into her, not stopping until he has nothing left to give.

Neither one have the strength to move after that, laying tangled up in each other for the time being, breathing loudly.

Gwen’s hand comes up to play with his facial hair after a while, her nails scraping lightly against his chin.

“I’m gonna need seconds and thirds of that, just so you know.”

He chuckles beneath her, his hands rubbing slow circles on her lower back.

“I seriously hope you’re talking about later, cause contrary to popular belief, I’m actually getting old.”

“You’re not giving yourself enough credit. I know from my own experience you’re up for much more.” She says playfully, leaning forward again as she kisses him deeply. “Come on cowboy, don’t be lazy.”

It’s in one swift movement he has her flipped underneath him, her chest rising rapidly and he smirks at the sight.

“You need to be careful what you wish for, Gwen.” He whispers lowly in her ear.

Her playful exterior cracks only for a second, as she doesn’t miss a beat. 

“I wish for you.” She replies immediately. “Just you.”


	10. A Brand New Start

The smell inside his Oklahoma residence is one between sweet and smoky, and there doesn’t seem to be an empty spot left in the place. People have gotten here early, everyone seemingly familiar with the New Year’s parties that get thrown here. She expected to feel a bit out of place without her kids, surrounded by so many new faces as she meets a bunch of his friends and family— but for some reason she’s not. They don’t treat her like an outsider at all and aside from their questionable fashion sense, these people really aren’t that far out of her comfort zone. 

She finds herself standing near one of the larger windows, looking over the excited party-goers as she feels a large frame pressing up behind her, lowering his head on her shoulder. 

"Look at them." He says, jutting his chin toward the crowd gathered in the freezing cold beyond the window. "They're crazy.” 

She can’t indeed imagine standing outside already, the new year still three hours away and the temperature less than appealing. 

"They're excited.” She hears herself saying, in defence of these people who’ve managed to make her feel so at home. “It almost reminds you of college kids— only older.” She laughs. 

The moment the words escape her, some of his friends outside have become giddy, holding up beer bottles while shouting some resolutions into the night wind, proving her point. 

"I wasn't like that in college.” 

She raises her eyebrows in momentarily surprise as she looks at him still leaning on her shoulder.

“Didn’t you say you never went to college?”

“Exactly.” He replies smugly, like she’d just proved his point. “I don’t believe you were like that either, Stefani.”

Her smile widens. "You might be right. I was too busy with my boyfriend at the time and providing background vocals for the band. It’s a miracle I got anything done there, but yeah, I was a weird college kid.” 

Blake shoots her a loving grin, probably feeling good about himself for reading that right, but also basking in the reality of Gwen so easily opening up to him. Something they both thought they might had lost.

The moment gets cut short when Blake ushers them both forward towards the counter, nodding at a few shot glasses that are still filled and untouched. She goes to reach for one at the exact same time he does, accidentally latching on to his hand more than the glass underneath. 

He doesn't seem to mind at all and he looks at her with a smile as he lifts her hand to his lips and kisses each knuckle. It makes her blush and she’s quite sure that’s why he did it. She doesn’t dislike the gesture at all, if anything, it’s so soft and gentle she has to remind herself not to start crying, for it being so unfamiliar. 

She lets him keep her hand in his, using the other one to grab and down her shot. She makes a face as she swallows, the burn hitting harder than she expected.

“Shit, who mixed these?”

Blake chuckles, throwing his shot back next and looking at her with a sour expression on his face.

“I’m afraid that might’ve been my sister. She’s quite notorious for her hellish shots.”

“I feel like that one shot just got me drunk.”

He laughs at her dramatics, but plays into it all the same. 

“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?”

He holds his hands out for her to grab and she does so without thinking twice. The tug on both of her hands comes both expected and unexpected, launching her against his chest. 

“Dance with me. Before you’re too drunk to.” He adds with a wink.

She eyes him again. It's dangerous; she knows the dance will start on the floor but move to the bathroom or the kitchen or anywhere dark and empty. Being  _that_  close to him has always led to a different kind of tango. She knows it always will.

Another tug on her hands shakes her out of thought as she’s met with Blake’s beaming smile. “So what do you say, Gwen?”

Smiling, she nods, and she lets him move her. She follows his lead as he pulls on her hand, walking between bodies to the rather large wooden area of cleared floor. She’d been so tuned in to Blake, she hadn’t even realized that most of his visitors had ventured outside by now, leaving the large house pretty much vacated. 

His arms wrap around her so easily, she just wants to melt into him completely, but she reminds herself of some composure since she will have to dance. Her own arms come around his neck, allowing herself the freedom to rest her head against his shoulder. 

“Don’t you wanna join your friends and relatives outside?” She asks just loud enough to be heard over the music, luckily for her it’s not that loud and she doesn’t have to yell. 

He shakes his head once, his hand tightening on her back.

“I much rather have this moment with you right now. We can join them afterwards.”

She nods. “You really threw quite the party.”

She means it, the whole thing is impressive. She remembers Adam telling her once that Blake throws the best parties and she’s been waiting to get invited to one ever since— he didn’t need to know the real reason was just her wanting to be on his mind enough to send her one, good or bad parties be damned.

“Do I even want to know how much you spent on all of this?” She adds teasingly. 

"It's a worthy investment. He smiles. “I’ll get it back." 

She laughs then too, cause she’s sure he will, being on the top of his game and all. She suddenly wants more, be closer, and so she takes it upon herself lift her head from his shoulder and stands on her tiptoes, pressing her chest and lower body flush against him. She can hear him grunt slightly over the music, his hand moving from her upper back to the curve of her ass. 

“Anything you want?” He asks lowly, pretending to be oblivious. 

She nods her head immediately.

“You.” She says softly before biting her lip. “And a kiss.”

She was gonna wait till the clock struck twelve, but to hell with that, she can deal with two kisses tonight—hopefully a lot more.

His face lowers, but not towards her lips and she sighs in frustration. His hot breath falls on her neck as he stills there. 

“Not before you make a resolution.” He whispers into her ear, hotly.

"I wasn’t gonna do those this year.” She says, close to pouting. "I never keep them anyways.”

Her eyes pop a bit when she feels one of his hands moving, skimming up the fabric of her shirt. 

“Blake...” She calls, a question dancing in her voice.

There is menace in his smile and love in his eyes as he gives an innocent “What?" 

His hand moves higher, his fingertips slipping under and along the elastic hem of her lace bra underneath. Her eyes flutter closed as her breathing ramps up, a little in disbelieve over how brazen he’s being, considering they’re still in his living room; people can walk in any minute.

"Come on, baby.” He teases, the pet names a given with him. "Humour me. Make a resolution." 

He slides his hand to the front, grazing her clothed nipple as he keeps her close to him, his own body shielding them from any possible visitors coming back inside. 

She gasps quietly, inhaling sharply as she feels his own arousal press against her lower stomach. She knows their want is mutual, which is exactly why she allows him to tease her like this. She teases right back though. 

She bites her lip and shakes her head.

"I'd break them tomorrow.” She mumbles, her hands curling and digging into his back; they're trying to keep up appearances, moving to the music and hoping the crowd outside just sees them dancing.

"A promise, then.” He says cleverly, and he starts walking backwards towards the nearest wall. He's pressed so firmly against her, his hand still underneath her shirt and she has to work overtime to not beg him to take her upstairs. "Make me a promise— you won’t break those.”

The admission of trust is not lost on her and she wants to cry at his thoughtfulness; even through his desire-filled haze, he’s making sure to make this meaningful, he’s making sure she knows they’ve turned a corner and he  _trusts_  her. 

“I promise I’m not running again.” She whispers, the intensity of the moment and the heat still raging through her veins, erasing all volume from her voice. “I trust you, I promise that too.”

It’s a hell of a time to officially answer the question he's been unofficially asking her for weeks now and she knows why; he didn't want to start the new year with any doubts.

He leans into her space again, his lips now dangerously close to hers. “Have I told you how much I love you yet today?”

She bites her lip, pretending to ponder over it.

“Hmmm…. I don’t know—you might have to tell me again.”

He laughs lowly. “I love you.”

“Blakey…” She starts cutely, pulling him closer. “How about that kiss you promised me.”

“At your service, baby.”

She’s thankful for the wall behind her as she pushes onto her toes and moves her arms around his neck, pulling his lips towards hers. The hunger in which he holds her close and parts her lips with his tongue has her panting in seconds. He pulls back momentarily to catch his breath, but she doesn’t give him long before she dives back in for another kiss.

His hands fall to her hips, subconsciously pulling her into him trying to create friction. She mentally cusses at the night for still being remotely early, unable to let him take it any further. Reluctantly, she pulls away after a few minutes, smiling up at him flushed.

“If we don’t head back out there, I might actually let you take me right here up against this wall.”

Blake chuckles lowly, his eyes sparkling with something dark.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, darlin’.”

She swats at his chest playfully, taking a few deep breathes as she pushes herself off the wall.

“Behave yourself, cowboy.”

*

It’s weird to finally be in the presence of people who not only know about their relationship, but also know much of the extent of what happened behind the scenes. She’s not too nervous about being around his family and friends, she’s more so excited for him to be willing to share these moments with her so soon.

It’s the first New Year’s Eve she’s spending away from her kids, and if she has to do something that cruel, there’s no other place she’d rather be. Blake’s family and friends had accepted her with open arms, despite her own nerves and doubts about that. She’s happy to see Blake in his comfort zone, interacting with these people who have so graciously taken her in and treated her as one of their own. It’s not until they’ve moved outside, joining the party crowd, that she realizes how popular he is.

“You look kind of lonely, out here all by yourself.”

The extra thick accent has her taking a few moments to make out what exactly he’d said, but she soon makes out what this stranger was trying to tell her, giving a polite smile.

“It’s okay, I got my drink.” She smiles softly, nodding towards the drink clamped between both hands.

The stranger who’s name she’s sure she’s heard before, but for the life of her can’t remember in this moment, laughs quietly.

“Blake’s really been rubbing off on ya.”

There’s so much she can say to that, but she swallows what’s on the tip of her tongue, instead manages at a small chuckle.

“I suppose you’re right.”

His hand lands on her shoulder, keeping a respectable distance nonetheless. “My name’s Chris by the way. Blake and I have been buddies ever since high school.”

Chris. Blake had indeed mentioned him to her before—she’s always been crappy with names. Despite the many positive stories she’s heard about this guy who’s nothing more but a stranger to her, she makes sure to keep a bit of her guard up; not forgetting about how Blake described him as a bit of a problematic drunk, flirting one of his lesser sins once he got the alcohol in his system going.

“Nice to meet you, Chris.” She says honestly. “Blake’s told me a lot about you.”

“Only good things I hope?”

She smiles, simultaneously looking around for the tall, handsome cowboy being social somewhere. She’s usually pretty good at this social thing—making friends not one of her problems—but something about this guy makes her incredibly nervous and she craves the presence of Blake more than ever.

“You know Blake.” She replies with yet another smile. “He’s always nice.”

She prides herself for being able to continue telling the truth, all the while derailing from his initial questions.

“He is. He’s managed to land himself a girl like you, so he must be doing something right.”

She sips from her drink, silently cursing the universe when she realizes she’s almost out of alcohol too.

“I’m— “

“Way too gorgeous.” Chris cuts her off. “I can’t believe he’s managed to be this lowkey about it the whole time, he’s truly dating the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“I am.” A familiar country drawl answers for her and she releases a breath of relief as she feels Blake’s arm slide around her lower back. “I’m just as surprised as you are, bud.”

She looks up at Blake who’s now standing next to her, her head automatically leaning into his shoulder.

“Dude, seriously; magazines and TV don’t even do her justice.”

Gwen bites her lip, looking up at Blake a little apologetically, while also being unable to deny that it’s flattering to hear these words. It’s been a while since she’s been able to feel the way people seemingly still perceived her, but between Blake’s common reminders and this guy losing it over her, she’s filled with a bit more confidence in that regard.

“How many of those have you had?” Blake asks while pointing at his friend’s drink.

“A few. I don’t need any drinks to see how gorgeous this one is though.”

“You’re so crazy.” Gwen jokes, blushing slightly as she looks down and hopes Blake takes the hint and takes the lead on this one.

“Hey man, I’m gonna take Gwen away from here, if you don’t mind. I wanna show her something.”

Chris doesn’t seem to mind one bit, patting Blake’s shoulder once with his lips curled up into a smirk.

Gwen’s mortified over what he thinks Blake just implied, but keeps her head down regardless. It’s not until Blake’s tugging at her hand to get her to walk with him, that she speaks up.

“Oh my god Blake, he totally thinks we’re getting out of here to….” She trails off, looking at him wide-eyed.

Blake holds open the door for her and waits until she’s stepped inside again.

“Don’t worry about it babe, he’s not even gonna remember most of that conversation.”

“But…”

“ _Babe_.” He interjects, his hand seeking out hers again.

She meets his gaze and suddenly realizes how he’s gritting his teeth, seemingly more annoyed by the whole situation than he let on in front of his friend.

“Oh my god.” She squeals, closing the distance between them as she plants a quick kiss on his lips. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m not.” He says quickly, pulling back. “I’m just….”

“Jealous?” She tries again, smirking.

“Annoyed.”

“Why?”

Blake huffs. “He’s my friend and you’re my girlfriend.”

She smiles sweetly, not creating any distance between their bodies yet. “You just said it yourself; he’s drunk.”

“He is. Doesn’t mean I have to like it when he starts hitting on my girlfriend.”

Gwen smiles, stretching up to place a kiss on his cheek, holding him close to her. “Not saying I condone him flirting with your girlfriend like that, but I think I kinda like jealous cowboy Blake.”

He grins down at her, pushing her firmer against him.

“Why am I not surprised?”

She giggles. “Because you know me?”

Blake makes a knowing noise in the back of his throat, hands gripping her even tighter before pulling away slowly.

“I actually did have something to show you, though.”

Her eyes widen. “Wait, you didn’t just say that to get us out of there?”

“Nope.” He replies, smiling. “I want to show you something.”

He once again takes her hand and leads her further into the house, walking them both towards the stairs.

“Blake, baby—all your friends are downstairs….”

“Oh you mean the ones who like to flirt with my girl?” He looks at her with a raised eyebrow until her exterior breaks and she starts giggling. “They can wait a few minutes.”

Knowing it’s useless to fight him on this, she lets him lead her up the stairs, looking confused as he has them entering his upstairs office.

“Blake?”

“Patience baby.”

She watches as he flicks on the light and gets his laptop, focusing all his attention on whatever he’s looking up. She walks up behind him to try and see what he’s up to, but his broad frame has her mostly shielded from the screen. Once she makes out numerous titles and files, she can only assume are songs, she’s even more confused.

He turns to look at Gwen again, holding both her hands in his before addressing her.

“I was going to wait to show you this, but I kinda want to do it before the new year starts.”

Her nerves are in full effect, but she’s equally as excited to find out what the big reveal is.

“Okay.” She says hesitantly.

“I wanted to do something, _anything_ , to show you how serious I am about this whole thing and how I’m not planning on running or going anywhere unless it’s with you.”

“Blake, you’re going to make me cry, what is it?”

He cocks his head towards the laptop. “Play it.”

“Me?”

He just nods, waiting for her to step up to the device. She does so slowly, letting her fingers drag the mouse over to the intended file.

The moment when sound fills the room, a shocked expression paints her face, her eyes glistening immediately. She can’t hide the emotion as both their voices mix in the prettiest of ways, the song when sang as a duet so much richer and warm than when it stands alone.

She can’t do much more than stand there and listen, unable to come up with anything to say or do as her brain couldn’t take in what she was hearing fast enough. She feels frozen in place until the audio runs out, a grin slowly creeping on her face.

After a few more minutes, Blake tentatively breaks the silence.

“I took both our parts and made it into a demo. I mean, I just wanted us to have this version with both our voices on it, since, well…. it’s kind of _our_ song.”

She looks at him, love written all over her features as she looks at him with utter admiration. She always knew the song was special, but she never knew it would sound like _that_ once they put their voices together.

“Blake, I….” She shakes her head, the emotion overwhelming. “Baby, I love it.”

She walks into his chest, smiling when his arms come around her and keep her there. She loves how he always reciprocates her touch and lets her know without words how appreciated it is.

“You do?”

She nods fiercely, wiping at the tears she’s unable to keep in.

“It’s beautiful. I didn’t think it would sound like that.”

Blake chuckles. “I’ve been trying to tell you; everything you touch turns golden.”

“Hey.” She says a little louder than before, looking up as she cups his face with one hand. “You do know that this song is mostly your doing, right? You came up with the melody, wrote the first verse—you made this what it is.”

He smiles down at her, obviously not used to the praise. She mentally gives herself a pat of on the back when she realizes she’s made the right call; he needed to hear it.

“ _We_ made this what it is, baby. It was a good song before, together…it’s magical.”

He knows she’s emotional, but he’ll never stop saying these things that are just too perfect, too sweet. It’s the craziest thing to get used to, a little confrontational to at times as she realizes how little of this she’s gotten before him and how much of what he tells her is completely new to her. His sweet words and genuine care for her are still often things she hears for the first time, despite having been married for thirteen years.

She suddenly can’t go another moment without feeling his lips on hers. Her hands pull his head down to meet hers, deepening their kiss a little. Both of his hands now cup her face to keep her in place, their make-out quickly escalating into something more intense. They only pull away when a wave of noise makes its way upstairs, the party seemingly getting more rowdy outside.

“How long before the new year?” Gwen asks breathy, her lips still close to his.

Blake grabs for the phone in his pocket, hitting the home button once.

“Twenty minutes.”

She inhales deeply, trying to get herself together enough to force these next words over her lips.

“We should probably head back down. We can’t miss the countdown.”

Blake nods. “You’re right. We better pick this up right where we left off after all is said and done.”

His low tone sends shivers up her spine, but she replies with just as much strength and determination.

“Oh you know we will.”

*

 

“One minute guys!”

With Blake pressed safely against her, she’s barely taking notice of the cold night air. All she can feel are Blake’s arms around her waist and his chest against her back. Everyone has now ventured outside with their drinks, people getting ready to shoot off fireworks in the near distance. It’s a totally different New Year’s Eve from the ones she’s experienced back home, but she never knew how much she’s been craving one like this until she had it.

She turns around in Blake’s arms, smiling up at him coyly as his arms now slide to her lower back.

“The year is almost over, cowboy.” She grins, for some reason feeling her eyes watering.

“It’s been a crazy one.”

“The toughest.” She says quietly.

He brings his hand up to touch her cheek, tracing the sharp lines of her cheekbones.

“And the most rewarding.”

His eyes bore straight into her soul as she bites her lip hard. Despite this year bringing her more heartache than she’s ever known, there’s no denying how it’s also given her one of the greatest gifts of a lifetime. Hearing Blake affirm that is enough to almost make her cry.

“TEN SECONDS.” One of his friend’s yells, the mood changing from sentimental to outgoing excitement.

Her own arms find their way around his neck, pressing herself up onto her toes so she’s more on eye-level with him.

“I love you.” She whispers right before the clock strikes twelve, Blake’s hand tangling in the back of her hair gently as he pulls her face closer and plants a deep, slow kiss on her lips.

She vaguely hears the fireworks go off in the background, but all she can really focus on are his lips and the feeling of his hand holding on to her head softly. She knows why he does it, but there’s a feeling of disappointment when he finally pulls away; the moment so movie-like she never wanted it to end.

“I love you too.” He replies sweetly, his arms going back around her lower back.

“Hey, Blake?”

“Yeah?”

“The duet...” She says softly her eyes never wavering from his. “I think we should record it— _officially_.”

There’s a moment of silence next, as she can physically see him stagger a little bit. His eyes widen at her words, the thought apparently one he didn’t allow himself to even think about.

“You mean you want to record it as a duet?”

She grins at him as he sheepishly repeats what she just said.

“Yes, I’d love to be a feature on your album. Especially with that song— _our_ song.”

“You want to release it?”

There’s really no better way for her to start the new year, Blake’s confused stare making her smirk as she elaborates.

She nods her head excitedly and determined.

“To the world, cowboy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe yet another story came to an end. Thank you guys for still being excited about stuff I write, it's the biggest motivator out there. Since this whole story was based on Go Ahead And Break My Heart, it felt right to end it with a full circle moment. The song that once sufficed as the breaking point of their relationship, now becomes the symbol of their relationship blossoming into what it is today.


End file.
